Fighting For His Honor
by MrsRoy
Summary: Secrets can either bind a couple together, or tear them apart. Obligations are both easier and harder to bear when you're in love. EO.
1. Daddy

**Huge thanks to Cori for the read through and encouragement! **

**I don't own them, I just share.**

* * *

He knocks three times, and then, he knocks again. There's no reply. He takes the cold brass key from his pocket and places it within the lock. Turning it carefully, the door opens to him, and he steps across the threshold. The flat is undisturbed, there's a daunting sense of peaceful quiet that evaporates into shame with each exhalation of his breath.

She deserves better than this, better than he can give her. He's a proud man, a provider, five children with his wife and now another on the way, he never thought of himself as the type of man to lead two very distinct, very separate lives.

"Liv," Elliot calls into the darkness, "Olivia, are you here?"

She must be asleep. She tires easily these days, with the extra weight, and the influx of hormones, her body has transformed into a wonderland, an opulent fortress that continues to sustain his child.

_His child._ The lies gnarl at his insides, the lump that's stuck in his throat tightens his gullet until he's repeatedly gasping for breath. He feels like a fraud, rich in wares that he no longer deserves.

He finds her in the bedroom. She's curled onto her side, her belly, ripe with his heart, peeks through the confines of his button down shirt. The fasteners are barely holding, her taught, mocha skin is on show, but he's seemingly timid, afraid that the truth will burn like those who disobey the lord.

Her fingers cradle the swollen flesh like it's something delicate, and he knows instantly, that she's a natural. Her maternal instincts kicked in months ago, he's pretty sure that he still has the bruises to prove it.

He pushes a stray lock of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. Her breath is warm against his skin, like a steamy vapor, and he has to suppress the stirrings of lust that she provokes within him. He places a kiss upon her forehead, but his lips linger. His nostrils flare with the scent of her arousal. He likes to think that she sent herself off as she imagined it was him.

He barely gets his tongue around her clit these days before she's coming. Sex with his wife had been nothing compared to the sensitive nature of foreplay with Olivia.

The sheets rustle, drawing his attention away from his daydreams. Her brown eyes, still glossy from sleep are trained upon him. It's moments like these, when he wonders why he hasn't had the guts to just divorce his wife and leave her for broke. He loves his children too much, and it's hard enough that he knows this one will have to be named as a Benson. A spade is a spade, nothing else.

He pours on the instant smile. "Hello, you."

Olivia stretches; her arm has become numb from the weight of her body upon it. Elliot brushes the tips of his fingers across her belly, soothing her aches and dispelling his own fears.

"Mmm," she yawns like the Cheshire cat, "hello. What did you bring me?"

He rustles the plastic bag between his feet, stooping to perch on the edge of her mattress.

"It's a surprise."

Olivia manages to push herself into a sitting position, her distended belly protruding proudly. She pulls the sheet around herself and frowns at Elliot.

"El, I'm not really in the mood for games."

A ripple runs across the top of her belly, the fine linens dancing with synchronicity as their child tumbles.

He's so proud, he wishes it were common knowledge, that the whole World could know that Olivia Benson carries his child.

"Somebody wants to play," he announces, the smirk on his face growing wider as he watches. "She's getting to be a big girl, now."

He knows that she hates it when he refers to their child as she. They'd both decided upon the element of surprise.

"The baby could just as easily be a boy and you know it, Elliot." She swats at his hands, he's always been protective and she admires his tenacity, but she's got to learn to do this without him. He's still married.

"Ok, ok. You win." He places his face close to her belly and winks up at Olivia over the mass of their baby. "Daddy brought Haagen Dazs, little girl. Chocolate peanut butter, mommy's favorite."

Olivia rolls her eyes. "You want me to be a fat pig? I'm big enough as it is."

"Liv," now it's his turn to argue, because as far as he's concerned, she's nothing shy of beautiful. So full of life, pregnancy really suits her. "You're pregnant. You'll lose the baby fat. Do you want the ice cream or not?"

She wonders how, for the better part of the last twelve years she's been able to deal with his crass attitude and his stiff upper lip. They fought the hard battles together, but he always has the penchants for misguided anger. She knew, every single time he tensed his muscles, that it was on for young and old.

He's getting better, retains his grip on reality, and unbeknownst to most, he's started to open up to her. When they're in her bed, stealing a moment together, he'll pull her into the curve of his body and tell her little things, tidbits that she truly treasures.

Somehow, it will never be enough.

He catches her mid thought; she knows that he'll tell her to stop over analyzing. Perhaps he realizes how powerful her thoughts really are, does he know that the storm of reflection that continues to spiral through her head could be her greatest undoing?

She hopes that he won't let her, that he'll be there to balance the opposing and keep her moving. Together, they can endeavor the passage of the waves, they can restore order with the equation of their harmony.

He's staring at her like he thinks she's mad, like he can read her mind and he disapproves.

"Well," she says, "what are you looking at me for? Plates and spoons are not going to magically appear, El."

"Come on, Liv. You need some exercise. El, do this, El, do that. It's all I ever hear. Your daughter will thank you for it."

She wants to be mad at him, but she can't seem to find the energy, not today. She takes his proffered hand and shimmies her way to the edge of the bed. She stands on precarious legs and he steadies her, like a ship in the night, he'll always be her beacon.

With their child tucked between them, they make the journey, the light of his light guiding her.

She deposits herself on the sofa, stretching her legs out along the length of the comfortable chair. If she's lucky, he'll offer her a foot rub, later. Perhaps, if she's in the mood, if he butters her up and rubs her the right way, she'll give as good as she gets. It's been a while since he's seen her down on her knees. It's been a while since she's seen them, period.

Every now and then, when she's sure he's not even paying attention, a tune will spill forth from the depths of his throat. His tone is soft, and it's barely audible, but it's Irish, probably a lullaby, and it breaks her heart to think that her child will never experience that.

She's willing to pay the price, though it's heavy. She has her child, even if she will never have Elliot. That's more than she can possibly ask for, and she's thankful. She's going to be a mother, he gifted her that honor, and he owes her nothing.

His voice filters through to the lounge room from the kitchenette.

"I could stay the night, Liv. Tell Kathy that I caught a case?"

Olivia laughs. "How long is she going to buy that excuse, it's starting to get old, Elliot."

He shrugs even though she can't see him. Truth be told, he wouldn't be anywhere else right now. His marriage is nothing more than words on a plain piece of parchment. The vows were dishonored long ago, long before he met Olivia, they were already starting to stale.

"I've got a better idea, El. Why don't you just stay for a bit, hold us until I fall asleep?"

If he could have his way, he'd never let go.


	2. Limits

**Extra thanks to Cori for the read through!**

**I don't own them, I just share.**

**Thanks for the awesome feedback! It means a lot.  
**

* * *

Elliot holds her tonight. Holds her because she had asked him to, holds her because right now, it's all that he's got.

She'd struggled earlier, to find a position that was comfortable for the three of them. Lying on her back feels like the life is being squeezed from her lungs as the baby pushes on her organs. Lying on her belly is out of the question, so now they're snuggled up like spoons. His chest is firm against her back; and she can count each breath that he takes. But she hates that she can't see the light in his eyes.

His arms used to reach plainly around her; he could lock his fingers into place and hold on tightly. Now though, he's not even able to touch his fingertips together. He remembers what Kathy was like when she was pregnant with the twins; she still blames him for the stretch marks.

He's just starting to doze when he's shaken from slumber by the noise of his cell vibrating on the bedside table next to him.

Speak of the Devil.

"Kathy. What's the matter?"

Olivia stiffens in his arms, that name always seems to evoke the same reaction. Olivia doesn't know how easy she's got it. He's the one married to Kathy.

"_Elliot, I don't suppose you're on your way home are you?"_

"No Kathy, I'm not," he sighs.

"_Well, do you have any idea when you might be? Everybody is here, we're waiting on you."_

He pulls Olivia closer, so close that she might as well be him.

"Kathy, my partner is pregnant; she's been on Maternity leave for two weeks now. Do you know what that means for me? Do you know how much extra work gets dumped onto me because she's gone?"

Elliot is so engrossed in the conversation that he doesn't even seem to register what he's saying, that is, until he realizes that Olivia has broken free of his embrace and moved back to her own side of the bed. She folds her body into the fetal position and tries desperately to block out his voice.

"_You sound tired, Elliot, you must be worn out. Come home and we can have a nice dinner. Eli wants to sit next to Daddy."_

"I'll be home when I can, Kathy, not before then."

He clips the phone shut and scoots over to Olivia, but she continues to shrug off any attempt he makes to take her into his arms.

"Liv, what's the matter?"

His lover remains silent, breathing in and out, bleeding just the same.

He rubs his hand along her arm, trying to coax her back into his clutches but she pulls away, like his touch is toxic, the mere thought of it fatal.

"Liv, talk to me, are you alright? Did the little girl frighten you?"

"A burden?" she asks of him, "is that what we are now, just an inconvenience? Because that's what you just told your wife, Elliot."

Suddenly the guilt starts to eat at him; it swallows him from the inside out. He doesn't know why he does this to her, but he feels like a piece of shit. He missed his chance to do it properly the first time, now he's fucking it up all over again. Could his resentment really hold that much weight? He'd never intentionally hurt Olivia, then again, he tells himself that he hadn't meant for her to get pregnant either.

"If we're just some hardship that you're forced to endure, don't let me stop you. Go home to your wife and your family. You're not welcome here you son of a bitch."

"Christ, Liv. I needed an excuse. Do you really think that I want to leave?"

Maybe he should just be upfront instead of lying to her? Maybe he should tell her his brilliant plan for the future? But he won't and he doesn't because he'd hurt her, he'd run the risk of harming their baby, God forbid.

The silence is enough to make his eardrums burst. It rushes at him, and he prays that the damage will heal quickly.

"I love you, Olivia, I do, I love you and this little girl."

He repeats himself, over and over, but not even familiar tactics can gauge a reaction. He's got his work cut out for him. He only has five senses and he's running through them quickly. She won't accept his advances, and words are only sucking him in deeper.

"Liv, listen to me. I do love you. And this situation, it's hard for all of us, but we'll be ok, trust me. Have I ever let you down? You've never had to look over your shoulder, Liv, you know that I've been there every god damn step of the way."

Olivia gasps.

"Liv?" He furrows her brow. What if he pushed her? Is she in pain? Is it the baby? She's just over eight months pregnant now; she can deliver safely, if a little early. "Talk to me, beautiful." Can't hurt to throw the compliment in, right? He's like a cat on a hot tin roof, and this is his sixth child.

He's not in a position to be able to see her grip the bed sheets, but when the sharp intake of air comes, he's on his feet and squatting down in front of her face.

"What's going on, Liv? Is it the baby? Tell me."

"Fine," she puffs through the discomfort, "I'm fine, Elliot."

His fumbles around in his mind trying to recall the moment his wife went into labor, but he's not entirely sure he was there at the time.

"Liv, is she coming?"

Olivia shakes her head, she knows her body, and she knows that this isn't the first time that this has happened. Fortunately enough, Elliot wasn't around to witness the pain and she didn't see the point in mentioning it a week ago.

"Just, help me sit up."

She allows him to take her hand, and he supports her as she shuffles around, gingerly bringing herself into a sitting position on the bed. She spies him for the first time she left his arms and he looks concerned. She knows that look, the questions are coming.

He wants to be able to touch her, to hold her, but he's fairly certain that's the last thing that she wants right now. He seems like such a lost cause and her heart aches for him, so she throws him a bone.

Taking his hand in her own, she places it on top of her bump. He searches her eyes for any hint of hesitation, but there's nothing more than the sparkle he knows and loves.

He rubs small circles over the fragile skin, her body is so tight, and her legs stiffen as the false contractions prepare her body for the grand finale. After a moment the pain seems to abate and she's able to speak.

"It's just my uterus tightening, Braxton Hicks, I've … had them once before."

His face clouds over, his features narrow and his eyes lose their luster, like the midnight skies. He's going to blow.

"What? Why wouldn't you tell me about something like that? You think I don't have a right to know?"

As she so frequently does, Olivia rolls her eyes.

"Get over it, Elliot. It was one day last week, it happened during my appointment with the midwife. What was I meant to say, oh, Mariah, please call Detective Stabler, you remember him, he's my partner, the one who's married with five children of his own, oh, by the way, he just happens to be the father of this one too? Get real, Elliot."

"Liv, you should have told me."

She tries to make herself comfortable as the twinges subside, using his body as leverage to sit up against the headboard.

"Elliot, its fine, you should probably go. Kathy will be wondering where you are."

"Nice try, but you're going to get into a warm bath and I'm going to make some tea and then we're going to talk."

She's relaxing by the time he returns with a warm mug held between his asbestos hands. The buoyancy of the water is supporting her weight, and he hopes it's helping to soothe the niggling ache in her back that he rubs every evening before kissing her farewell. It's become their ritual; He stops in on his way home, tucks them in and kisses them good night. Some nights he wants to stay, most nights he has to force himself back out the front door from which he entered.

He takes his seat dutifully upon the lid of the toilet seat and watches as she basks in the warmth of the porcelain that surrounds her. The old claw foot seems to keep its temperature evenly.

She looks peaceful. She looks gorgeous. He remembers the first time they fucked in the shower, which quickly became the tub, then the floor of her bedroom by the time they'd struggled through the intersecting door. He likes to think that they fucked their little wonder in being right here in this grandeurs tub.

Her voice startles him. "You're staring, Stabler."

He taps the side of the mug with his finger.

"I brought you some tea, and how do you know that I'm staring, your eyes are closed. But she really is getting to be a big girl. Liv," it's now or never, "what happened tonight, it scared me. Do you realize that you're going to give birth soon? We need to discuss this."

She's irritated, but she tries not to let it show, even though she's sure he can read all he needs from her voice.

"Elliot, you're my partner, best friend, you hold my hand and feed me grapes. It's as simple as that."

"Liv …"

She opens her eyes and tries, but fails miserably to lift her tired body out of the sanctuary of the tub.

"No, Elliot. I really don't want to know what happened with Kathy. You'll be there, isn't that enough for you? Just let me do this my way."

"Olivia, look at me. Please, just look at me for a minute. I know that you want to do this your way, but you can't just shut me out."

She balls her hands tightly into fists and turns her head to look in his direction.

"Elliot, you know this is how it has to be. I'm sorry I didn't tell you but I'm fine. We're fine." She offers him a smile; it's tight, almost a grimace, "But you can't have it both ways, Elliot."

"I know, I know. Just remember that I'm still here. This is hard for me too. Knowing that it's my kid, and that I can't even be openly proud of the fact, it's tough, Liv. "

Of all the advice Elliot's Mother had ever given him, _'do not let the sun set upon an argument'_ had been the words he'd carried with him.

Placing the mug on the floor beside him, Elliot kneels beside the tub, his hand reaching to rub the swell of belly that holds his youngest.

"You going to be alright? I should get going."

He stands to full height again, leaning across the lip of the bath to place his lips against Olivia's. He's annoyed when she turns her head, offering up her cheek, but ultimately, he's not really surprised. His behavior seems to be doing more harm than good these days. He doesn't mean for her to suffer, certainly not their child.

"I love you, little girl too."

She nods. "I know, love you too. Goodnight, Elliot."


	3. Forks

**Cori is the best! Thanks for the read through, sweetheart.**

**This chapter, we find out what Elliot is up to.**

**I don't own them, I just share.  
**

* * *

The weeks pass by without further incident, and although he makes sure that Olivia is tucked up safely every night, his mind still tends to wander, he still finds himself absently wondering what else there is she doesn't tell him.

Elliot takes the small scrap of paper from his breast pocket, it's thoroughly crumpled, considering the fact that it's been there since lunch time. Elliot smooths it out on the dining room table and eyes the digits in front of him. This could be his chance to atone, to make a better life for all of them. He's failed as a husband, failed in the eyes of his self confessed mistress, what does he really have to lose? His children were raised upon the values of forgiveness; he hopes that they won't hold it against him.

His hand shakes and he's forced to tighten his grip on the cell phone that he's holding in front of him. He can do this, he just needs to focus. His finger lingers over the digits and he utters a silent prayer that the Lord carry and keep him. Forbidden tears are repentance enough.

He punches each number, his Irish blood motivation enough for punishment. By the second ring, Elliot has stepped out onto the porch, before the forth, there's an answer.

"Major Masters."

"Hi, Pete, it's Elliot. Elliot Stabler."

"Well, well, If it isn't Private Stabler. How the fuck are you Elliot? It's been a while, little lady still got you on a leash? What was her name, Kelly, Crappy? I kid, I kid."

"Funny, real funny you smartass. It's Detective Stabler now, and I'm pretty sure you were by my side when I acquired that particular ball and chain," Elliot jokes, trying to dislodge the weight that has settled in his gut.

"Nope, sorry, must have been some other Peter. So, Elliot Stabler, after all these years you decide just to call out of the blue? Last time you wanted anything to do with the Corps you were lookin' to make a quick buck. Got a few hungry belly's to fill my friend?"

The irony of his words is not lost on Elliot.

Elliot rolls his eyes, even though the gesture is wasted on the man in question.

"Yeah, something like that. I'm actually just sniffing around for extra work at the moment. Police work just isn't the same as it used to be."

Peter Masters shuffles some papers in front of him and excuses himself, effectively leaving Elliot on hold. They'd been friends for a long time, until Kathy came along with her blonde locks blowing in the breeze. Elliot was a teenager, and a defiant one at that, always trying to prove a point. When Peter found out that Elliot was shipping out to join the Marines, he enlisted right along with him, served beside him, friends until the end.

He's not buying Elliot's story, not for a damn second, but once a Marine, always a Marine. He feels obligated to help a brother during his time of need.

Peter clears his throat and prepares to talk.

"Elliot, I'm not sure what's going on with you, we used to talk, a lot, and then you got married, had your family, responsibility, and the rest of your family, your buddies who took care of you day in and day out, we were tossed to the curb. But you were like a brother to me, blood never really made a difference," he breathes heavily, rubbing his face on the end of the line. "I'm keeping tabs on a close target reconnaissance mission. A private Military company looking for trained cops and soldiers. I think you fit that description. Pay is good, actually, the pay is better than I make in a year."

"What's the catch?" Elliot needs to know straight up, exactly what he's getting himself into.

"You know how it is, Elliot. Hostile targets, enemy intelligence, you're working outside of the Military framework my friend. Are you sure you really want to do this, Elliot? It's dangerous, you have kids. You'd be going all the way to the northern border region of Lebanon. "

"There's somebody else," Elliot blurts before he can stop the words from gushing. "She's my partner, Olivia. She's pregnant, but Kathy doesn't know."

"It's always the partner."

Elliot lets down his guard, just enough to lump together a decorous snicker. "How is Missus Masters?"

Elliot doesn't know about the divorce. There's a lot Elliot doesn't know.

"With the alimony I'm paying, I'd say she's doing nicely."

Ah. It seems that now days, love is just a matter of chance. Divorce is more common than not, hell, even Elliot has seen himself stray, wander along the path labeled forbidden. He'd gone so far as to cross the T's and dot the I's, and just when he thought he was free, when he actually began to think that he might actually be able to confide in Olivia, his wife had come back and it was Maureen all over again.

"So, extending the brood then? How's that working out for you?"

"Can we not talk about that right now? How long do I have before deployment? Olivia is two weeks off her due date."

Peter's fingers peruse the page, his eyes scanning the trail until he comes upon a date and time. Elliot is not going to be happy about this.

"Elliot, I hate to say it, but if you really want to do this, you're going to have to hope and pray that the little one has really lousy timing. You've got about five days left to take up a contract."

"But I told her I'd be there, Pete. She's got nobody else." Elliot scratches behind his ear, a nervous reaction to the news. His protective instinct is profoundly developed. Collective fear stimulates his ferocity towards anything he deems fit to stand accused as a threat.

"Elliot, I'm sorry, but that's all I've got. Take it or leave it."

His mind knows only some. That inner voice, the one that niggles, seems to know everything. It led him straight to Olivia and what they have now. He has to go with his gut on this one, he's learnt to follow his intuition, and he had to learn the hard way. He tells himself that what he's doing is right. He's doing it for them.

Elliot crosses his chest, doing the Catholic thing. He will return. "Where do I sign?"

* * *

"Elliot," Don seems surprised to see the buxom man standing inside the door of his office. "What can I do for you? I thought you took the afternoon off?"

Elliot pushes his hands into his pockets and shrugs his shoulders. "Had some paperwork to do." Though he's not about to tell him what.

"Something the matter, Detective?"

"How long have I been working Special Victims, Captain?" Elliot waits for Don to do the math in his head, around the time the twins were born, that's almost seventeen years in the same job, twelve of which he served beside Olivia. They were highly regarded as partners, and then she'd come to him with that little white stick and a waver in her voice. That was the moment he'd lost her, despite the two of them never having been so close before.

"Elliot, what is this about? Are you sick of us, bored, looking for greener pastures? Has Kathy said something? You never worried about her opinion before."

Elliot bites back without thinking. "I never had to work without Olivia, before."

"That's not true; you've known other partners besides Olivia. She just happens to be the person you actually work best with."

_The sheet curls around his ankle as he holds his body weight over her, steady arms taking the brunt of the force. His final thrust is deep and he wonders if he's managed to penetrate the neck of her cervix, from the look in her eyes, he'd bet that he did. He removes his cock and she seeps, the thick remnants of their encounter trickles down her thigh. She runs her finger through her curls and across her slit, coating the tip with the flavor of his release. The Bitter tang diffuses across her tongue as she licks, Elliot grunts, wondering how long it will be until she lets him spindle the fire again. _

"_Fuck, Liv," he takes her hand, have I ever told you that you're the best?"_

"Yeah," says Elliot, I know."

After considering the state of the floor for a moment, Elliot continues.

"I just think, maybe, it's time I considered other things. You know that Eli's at that age now, he's going to need his dad. There's so much that I don't want to miss," including the new baby.

"You want to take some time off? Is that what this is about? I can't help you if you don't tell me, Elliot."

"Half the time I don't even know myself," he tells nobody in particular. "Must be time for my midlife crisis or something. Do you ever wonder, if there's a better life out there somewhere?"

Sometimes, Don likes to think that there are other options; choice is a matter of values. Sometimes, you're just forced to participate in the game of life. If it were up to him, his wife would still be here.

"You make your bed; you have to lay in it, Elliot. I'm afraid that's the way it works. Listen, go home, spend some time with your kids, and think about it before you do something irrational and completely selfish. There are others depending on you, son."

Is the man a mind reader?

"Yeah, you're probably right."

* * *

Elliot tries to settle into the lumpy old couch, it's as comfortable as one on the couch can ever be, but it's his couch and this is the way he likes it. The marital bed just doesn't have the same appeal anymore. He beats his stinking pillow into submission and sighs. Closing his eyes, he wills sleep to claim him.

He recalls the last half hour of the night he'd spent with Olivia and their child. She seemed irritable, or more so than usual, the backache seems to be turning her into a bear with a sore tooth. He chuckles to himself. He'll never get used to the fact that she constantly refers to herself as a whale. Nothing could be further from the truth.

His little girl was lazy tonight; usually she's on the move like an acrobat with her daring performance. He's glad that she seems to like to have fun, from the cradle to the Circus. Elliot will have to help her work on her upper body strength, but that's ok because he's perfected the method.

He wonders what she'll look like, big brown eyes, that olive complexion, and dark, curly ringlets that hang over her shoulders or perhaps it were just Eli who got lucky with the hair?

His cell under his pillow vibrates and his head resonates with the movement. He checks caller ID and frowns, flipping the top and putting his ear to the receiver.

"Liv, what's wrong?"

He listens to her draw a deep breath, her voice is shaky and she doesn't really sound herself.

"Liv, talk to me. What's going on?"

Olivia hesitates, and he knows that something is wrong. Usually she's the first to jump down his throat. Christ, the baby. Please Lord, have some mercy.

"El," she whispers, trying to breathe through the pain. "El, I think it's time."

He's across the room and ascending the staircase before she even finishes the sentence. "Liv, listen to me. I'm going to get dressed, stay calm and give me ten. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Her voice is small, but he can hear the amusement in her tone."I'll see you soon. Elliot," he waits for her to say it, and she does. "I love you."

"I know. Me too. See you soon."

He crashes through the bedroom door and flips the light switch, effectively waking his sleeping wife in the process. He's frantic and he shouldn't be. Olivia needs him to be calm, and Christ, he's done this before, he knows better.

"Elliot," Kathy rubs at her face, "what on earth is going on?"

Elliot buttons his jeans and pulls the zipper up, tightening his belt as he hops around trying to stretch a t-shirt over his head at the same time. He decides on his badge just in case, if he takes the badge, he might as well carry his weapon.

"Olivia's gone into labor. I'm going to take her to the hospital. Go back to sleep, Kathy. It's late."

Kathy lays her head back against the pillows and watches Elliot's heavy hand with the aftershave. He runs a hand through his short cropped hair and scrambles for a decent jacket. It is, after all, an important occasion. He needs to be presentable.

"She couldn't ring Don to pick her up? It's her first baby; she's going to be in first stage for a while."

Elliot pats himself down and turns to his wife.

"No, Kathy, she couldn't and I offered."

His wife is not sure what to say, and right now, Elliot is not really concerned about sticking around for a right of reply. He's going to see this pregnancy through.

"Don't wait up. I'm not sure when I'll be back."

"What is that supposed to mean, Elliot?"

He walks to the door and holds up his hand, motioning for her to be quiet.

"In five days, I'm swapping my badge for something else. I'm shipping out to Lebanon on a reconnaissance mission. The pay is more than I've ever made, you and the kids can be comfortable, Kathy. Right now we can't even afford a new couch."

"Elliot," Kathy sits up moving from the bed to his side. She tries to take his hand, but he rebuffs her. "What happens to us if you come home in a body bag, how comfortable will we be then. I'll have to sleep alone in an empty bed for the rest of my life. It will never be the same."

"It hasn't been like that for a while, Kath. The contract is legal and binding. The payments will go into our account monthly. Kathy, I'm leaving and there's no way for you to stop me this time."


	4. Goodbye

**Thanks to Cori for the beta.**

**I don't own them, I just share.**

**Trust me!  
**

* * *

He's trying not to take his eyes off the road, but he's concerned about her welfare. "You ok?" He looks across the center console at her.

"Elliot, watch the road, we're going to the hospital so that I can give birth, not end up in traction."

"Those momma instincts are kicking in already."

Olivia grips the door handle, breathing like she's just done little more than run a few kilometers. She refuses to let him see her like this, vulnerable.

"Liv, if you're in pain, you don't have to hide it from me. We've been through a lot together and I've always had your back."

God, the man is infuriating. He shared a house with four women and he still can't seem to take a hint.

"Elliot, you're about to see a child come out of my vagina. There's something a little disconcerting about that."

"Yeah, Liv, a baby, our baby. And that's ok, because I love you. We're not living in the middle ages, Liv. Fathers are involved in the birthing process these days."

She's thankful for tolerable pain right now, because by the end of this, her nerves are going to be shot to hell. She really is going to need his support.

She watches the scenery pass her by. There's a billboard outside Time Square, it keeps an up to the minute count of gun related crimes in New York, but the advertisement next to it for Baskin Robbins is the one that really takes her fancy. She considers asking Elliot to pull over so that she can get a soft serve, but if they stopped now, she wouldn't be able to get back into the sedan.

She fidgets in her seat, trying to find a comfortable position. The spasms in her back niggle, a precursor to the contraction that will inevitably strike when she least expects it.

He can sense her body tensing, it's a natural reaction and he wants to be able to soothe her discomfort and trepidation. He steadies his grip, steering the car without concern. He reaches with his free hand, extending his arm to place his palm upon her distended belly.

He holds it there for a moment, not game enough to make any sudden movement for fear that he'll spook her. The moment she exhales he brushes his thumb across the taught skin that's exposed at the waistband of her sweatpants.

She watches him, unsure of his intent.

"Relax, Liv. Focus on your breathing. If you really wanted to, you could remove my hand."

Elliot checks the clock on the dash; it's almost ten to ten. This baby won't be here anytime before dawn breaks, he's sure of that. Together they ride in silence, just Elliot and his dysfunctional little family.

They bypass Emergency heading straight for the maternity wing. Olivia booked herself a private suite, months ago. Thank God for her organizational skills. Elliot flashes his badge which earns him a chuckle for his troubles.

"Benson, Olivia. She's in labor. Not actually active labor, her contractions are still pretty far apart," Elliot informs the woman at the front desk.

The young woman nods and smiles before turning to Olivia. "How are you feeling, Olivia? Ready to have a baby?"

"I think he's the one ready to lay," Olivia motions her head towards Elliot. "You'd think he was a nervous first time father."

Elliot just shrugs. "I've got five of them at home."

The nurse in pink scrubs frowns. "It says in your file, that this is your first baby, Olivia."

Recognizing the confusion, Olivia tries her best to back pedal them out of what could potentially be a rather embarrassing situation.

"It is," she smiles sugar sweetly. "Elliot, he's my partner, that is, he's my work partner, my best friend."

Best friend, thinks the nurse, yeah, because we've never heard that one before sweetheart. Try again.

"Let's go this way, if you'd like to follow me, Olivia, you'll be in room number forty four."

Elliot snatches up the bag waiting at his feet, but Olivia tugs at the handles, trying to take it from his hand. With his free hand, Elliot grips her shoulder, bending to whisper into her ear.

"I'll do my job, you just focus on yours."

"First things first, Olivia," the nurse is busy giving instruction, "the Doctor will need to check to see if you're dilated, and how far along. After that, I'm sure Elliot here can attest to the fact that it's just a bit of a waiting game. The midwife will check on you periodically to see how you're doing. Once your waters break, we're down to business so to speak."

Three hours in and the going is slow. Elliot paces the corridor, waiting for Olivia to give up the facade and admit that this is actually a hell of a lot harder than she had anticipated. He waits patiently as she slumps against a nearby wall, trying to breathe through the worst of her contraction. If she wants space, he'll give her plenty, but nothing will stop him from being right where he needs to be.

Olivia had thought she was prepared, she'd read up on real life experiences, she owns a copy of every labor and delivery book that she could manage to get her hands on. But here, now, she's starting to realize that she's way in over her head. Nothing could ever prepare her for an event like this. She's about to give birth, to Elliot's child, it's a cause for celebration, she has been blessed.

She watches him hover, always just out of reach, but no more than arms length away. He was right when he'd said that she's never had to look over her shoulder, he's always just sort of been there when she needed him, a protector. She's never had cause for fear; he adapted, out of a sense of duty, perhaps even love. He took on that roll right from the beginning, and he's still here, still standing guard against misfortune.

"Oh my god, this hurts." The words leave her mouth before she's able to stop them.

Elliot steps forward, catching Olivia before she falls to the floor; they sink together, clawing for solid ground. He holds her as close as he dares.

"Elliot," her tone is a warning.

"No, Liv, I don't care anymore." He challenges her to defy his words. He holds her until the pain is a dull memory, his hand resting over the top of her belly. "Come on; let's get you back to your room."

"This is so degrading. You'd think they could come up with a more effective process."

Elliot has heard it all before, so he sticks to what he knows best "What about a bath? Take a load off? Can't hurt, right?"

"Elliot," Olivia asks, "do you think I could get some of those drugs now?"

At last, he's been waiting for her to break, as the first wall begins to crumble, he seems optimistic that the rest will soon follow suit. Though she hides it well, pain has always been her greatest weakness, the physical, and the emotional. Her defeat comes from within most of the time; there are some scars that will never heal. Bravery is being the only one who knows that you're afraid, but in Olivia's case, Elliot knows better.

* * *

Six hours in and they're finally starting to reach the crescendo.

"Good girl, in through your nose and out through your mouth," the midwife encourages, "Not long to go now, you're almost fully dilated.

Why is she is such a chipper mood? Doesn't she realize how much these contractions hurt? Olivia looks over at Elliot; he's sitting in the chair at her side, his chin supported by his hand as he leans his elbow upon the bed beside her. He notices her glare and shrugs his shoulders. He's walking the dark side of the clouds now.

"What do you want me to say, Liv? It's the transition phase."

"Thanks for the support, partner." Olivia takes the time to enunciate the word so that connotations aren't confused.

Having observed the tense conversation from an outsider's perspective, Mariah, Olivia's midwife, offers up an interesting suggestion.

"Elliot, why don't you try breathing with Olivia? Channel your energy into something constructive, huh."

"Sure." He grips her hand, puffing when she pants, the pain coming faster and harder. He feels like he should be doing more, like he owes them that much. He holds Olivia's gaze, he follows her eyes when they stray because he wants her to know that they're in this together. He's not going anywhere.

They're so focused on each other that they miss Olivia's cue. His stare is so intense; she never really stopped to appreciate the alluring blue-grey color before. Her mother never warned her about the ones with the bedroom eyes. He really is perfect.

"Olivia," a voice disturbs her concentration, "Olivia, honey, I said it's time to push now. You're ready."

Before Olivia has a chance to object, Elliot slips of his runners and takes his place on the bed behind her. She tries to protest, to insist that this is for his own good, that it was easier for them to sin in silence, but she's powerless. Her argument has fallen on deaf ears. It's in his nature to resist her disapproval.

"Just let me help you, Liv." She can't see his face, but he's wearing that smug grin, the one she usually wants to slap off.

The midwife raises her head from between Olivia's thighs and smiles. "Let's have a baby."

Olivia leans back into Elliot's chest. Her brow is sweaty, her toes curl as the crushing pressure of her uterus pushes their child forth.

"Elliot? El," she whimpers.

He leans forwards, his lips grazing the shell of her ear as he whispers. "I'm here, Liv, right here, but I can't do this for you, Olivia. You need to do this for me." He uses his thumb to brush the inside of her knee where he holds her legs open. He wants to take up the strain.

Olivia makes a keening noise deep in the base of her throat and it's like she tripped an invisible string that's attached to his heart. Each little breathy moan is like another crook of her finger.

He lifts the hand within his grasp and places a kiss to the inside of Olivia's wrist, it's risky, but he has to let her know that he's there, that she's got him.

"Olivia," Mariah smiles up at the pair on the bed, "Your baby is crowning. There's so much hair."

Olivia snorts thinking about the man currently propping her up. She wonders if he had that much hair once. The laughter rumbles through Elliot's chest and he's so proud right now, he just wants to shout it. He's pretty sure that Mariah is onto them, and has been for a while, but Elliot can't see past the fact that Olivia is bringing his child into this world.

"Push through the pain, Olivia. I know that it burns, but you can do this. The shoulders are the hardest part," Mariah tells her.

Olivia offers a grimace.

"On the next contraction," Mariah coaches.

"Come on, Liv. This is for our little girl." Elliot swallows hard watching Olivia clench her teeth and thrust her hips forward with force. If she wasn't in so much pain, it might even be a turn on.

A muffled sniffle catches Elliot's attention as Olivia slumps into his arms; he doesn't loosen his grip though, not for a second. He looks over her head to the tiny, distraught child in the nurse's arms. His smile could light the sunshine. A son. He has another son.

"So, who's going to do the honors?" the midwife, motions to the umbilical cord."

Elliot's whole body stiffens, he hates that he doesn't get to do this; it's an injustice that aggravates him, like the stupid red tape that has hampered his efforts on occasion.

Olivia's elbow connects with Elliot's ribs; she's trying to tell him something, is she giving him permission? Could he be so lucky?

"Go on, Uncle Elliot, you can do it."

"Liv, I …"

"Come on, Elliot. We need to get onto the placenta, if you don't want to do it, I can do it?"

Elliot glares at the frantic midwife. In all the years she's witnessed live births, Mariah Bradley has seen fathers and uncles spill through the doors like clockwork. Elliot Stabler is not this child's uncle. The prominent features are hard to ignore, especially to a trained eye such as herself.

Olivia watches as Elliot severs that tether, the one that has sustained their child for a long as he needed. She realizes rather quickly that it was the right thing to do; Elliot deserves to have this moment.

"You want to hold him?" The nurse presents the small child to Elliot, he's swaddled, he's safe.

Olivia nods at him. "Go on."

He'll never tire of this feeling, the love that transcends anything and everything, when his flesh and blood is nestled in the crook of his arm. He wants to tell this little boy exactly what he means to him, he hopes that someday he will have that chance.

"He's gorgeous, Olivia," Mariah smiles proudly, for this man and this woman, obviously caught up in the middle of an affair. Elliot's wedding ring catches the light as he moves his son into the arms of his mother.

"Got a name, Liv?"

Olivia traces the little boy's nose, the tips of her fingers trailing his perfect cheek; he really does look just like his father. "Emery," she says. "Emery, Oliver."

The sound of his own voice echoes through Elliot's mind.

_Oliver, after her father._

This is the son that he's always wanted to give her.

"Benson," Olivia adds sadly, "he's a Benson."

Mariah jots down the name like she's paying attention. She hopes that they'll forgive the slip of her pen.

Welcome to the World _Emery Oliver Stabler._

_

* * *

_

Elliot stands beside Olivia's bed. He's watching her sleep. He pushes some hair from her face and places his lips to her temple. His thumb brushes her forehead and he whispers softly, loathe to wake her.

"I love you, I'm sorry. Tell that little boy how much he means to Daddy."

If he doesn't go now, he might stay forever.

The nursery is quiet; the early morning light is just starting to curl in beneath the crack in the blinds. Olivia had worked hard. He's always had lousy timing. His son is wide awake, and watching his father with wide eyes, haunting eyes. Does he know his father's secret? Is he asking him to stay?

"You're not making this easy for me, bud. When you're a man, you'll understand that a father will do whatever it takes to look after his family. Daddy has to go away, so that I can get some money for you, so that we can sort this out and help your mom. I love her, your mom, and when I get home, I'm going to leave Kathy."

Little eyelids begin to droop. Emery closes his eyes and his breathing evens out.

"Time for me to go now. I love you."

* * *

Elliot places his badge upon the Captains desk, his piece sits neatly beside it. He's got no safety net now, nothing to fall back on if he needs it.

"Hold onto these for me Cap."

Don watches Elliot heading for the door, some crazy notion of honor clouding his judgment. The boy needs a reality check, cold water in the face, some sort of shock to the system. What good can possibly come from this?

"Elliot, why are you really doing this?"

Elliot turns, and when he does, it's the Stabler that they're all used to seeing. The one with the sparkle in his eye, who will choke hold a man without so much as a warning. He's ready to let loose. He's ready to play the game.

"The money, I need the money, Don. Kathy and the kids, Liv and Emery, they all need me to step up."

What he doesn't say, is that he's violated the vows of his marriage, he's done wrong by Olivia, and left her to raise his child. The speculation alone will be enough to wear him down. This is his punishment, self imposed. He's taking upon himself the guilt, the pain of having lived on impulse for as long as he has. The Lord might forgive him, but in his own eyes, Elliot holds the blame.

In his own eyes, Elliot is not worthy of them.


	5. Infidelity

**Thank you for all of the awesome reviews! I'm so pleased to hear that you're enjoying this.**

**Once again, thanks to Cori, she is amazing!**

**I don't own them, I just share.  
**

* * *

Olivia clutches her child to her breast. Emery seems content in his own little sphere of prosperity.

She wonders if his eyes will change, to the rich coffee color that mirrors her own, or if they will stay the same, just amending the tint to reflect the man that she doesn't want to think about.

It's been two weeks since she's seen Elliot. He disappeared without a trace, probably abandoned them for something better, something secure. She still remembers the moment she realized he was gone.

"_You're doing well, Olivia. You've recovered nicely," the midwife tells her after examining her._

_Her throat is thick with sleep; she's exhausted after everything she's been through. She wonders where Elliot is, probably with their son, he knows her too well._

"_Mariah, have you seen Elliot?"_

"_Oh, Olivia, didn't he tell you? Elliot left early this morning, said he had work to catch up on. He asked me to tell you that he loves you, and that he's so proud. He said that you'd understand?"_

"_Oh God." Olivia slumps back against her pillow. She's feels lost without him, where the hell is he? _

"_Olivia," Mariah stumbles her way through the question. She's seen this a lot, but asking never seems to get any easier. "Elliot, he's the father, isn't he?"_

She still can't believe that her midwife had had the audacity to pull the stunt she did, even if Olivia silently thanks her. Despite the quiet feelings of gratitude though, the despair serves to remind her that legally, her son may be a Stabler, but as far as Olivia is concerned, he's a Benson, heart and soul.

She tries not to spend her days by the telephone waiting for the call that doesn't come. If she surrounds herself with her son; she can wait a little bit longer.

"I should probably call Captain Cragen today little man," Olivia cringes, the words of his father dig a little deeper, "See how much leave I have up my sleeve. Knowing my luck it's not going to be paid either."

A hint of insecurity creeps into her voice. Her doubts are allowable, her fears are legitimate. A competent and self confident person, now she basks in her own promiscuous misery. Work is her life, without it, without her partner, she is nothing. Apparently, God threw the dice of life and she lost.

Where did she go wrong? Where did she lose Elliot along the way?

Olivia places Emery over her shoulder rubbing circles across his back, just like they'd shown her in the hospital. When the child doesn't hiccup, she lays him across her lap, patting a little firmer. This seems to have the desired effect, and the little boy expels the remnants of his last meal.

"How did your father ever manage to do this five times? I suppose he was made for this, I ... me, not so much. But I'm learning, something my mother waited too long to achieve."

Stepping off the elevator, Olivia starts to wish that she had actually called the office this morning. The unmistakable fair locks of Kathy Stabler are the last thing she wants to see right now. It's a reminder that two heads are better than one, that sometimes when you fall, you don't always get over the pain.

With her son strapped to her chest, she keeps a low profile, waiting until the other woman leaves the Captains office. She'd really like a protective detail at the moment, anything that might stop Elliot's wife from coming to close to her son.

She tries to make herself smaller, tries to fade into the background, but she's left exposed and vulnerable, and all she can do is cradle her sons head and hope for the best.

"Olivia?" Kathy approaches the desk, her hand bag slung over her shoulder, a timid smile and what seems to be a nervous twitch.

"Hi, Kathy."

Olivia made her choices based upon what she believed, by telling Elliot what she needed, and asking what he wanted. She'd behaved in a way that brought harmony to her life, even at the expense of her personal values. Rubbing her thumb across Emery's crown, she finds it hard to have regrets.

"So, this is the baby? Elliot mentioned that you'd gone into labor."

So she knew, he'd told her, which means that he must be buzzing around the precinct somewhere.

"Yes. This is Emery Benson." Benson. Not Stabler.

"Hello, Emery," Kathy coos. She's momentarily startled when she realizes that she's seen that face before. She knows it so well; her oldest son wore it soon after his birth. She's observing Elliot, the chiseled jaw, the shapely ears, the eyes that will undoubtedly become the most exquisite hue of startling azure. This child belongs to her husband.

John is watching both women from the comfort of his chair. His eyes are trained upon Olivia, veiled through his glasses. He wonders who will strike first. Nobody knows for sure, but if the baby is Elliot's, Olivia has some explaining to do.

Olivia realizes that Kathy is staring, it unnerves her. She's expecting the word _adulteress_ to form on her forehead in bold, block letters. She didn't stop to think that the price she paid might be blood.

"He's beautiful, you must be so proud."

Olivia exhales a breath she wasn't even aware she was holding, her shoulders are rid of the weight that is baring her down, but it's only a matter of time before Kathy slots the pieces into place.

"_You put Elliot's name on his birth certificate? Mariah, how could you?"_

_The Midwife rubs Olivia's arm trying to calm her, "It's alright, Olivia. Don't you think your child deserves it? If he can't have his father, it's the next best thing."_

"_Trust me," Olivia spits, "I grew up without a father and my son will be fine without one too."_

"_We can change it, if that's what you really want, we'll get new forms and we'll change it back to Benson."_

_Olivia sighs, she's honestly torn. _

"_Olivia, listen to me, please. I've seen the way that man looks at you, and he's not fooling anyone. Olivia, you know who your sons father is, do you really want that dotted line to read unknown? If that's what you really want, we can change it."_

_Olivia pushes back the tears that have gravitated towards her salty lids. "He's married, Mariah. He has a wife, and five other children. We're partners, and Emery's birth certificate, it's a public record. If people find out ..."_

"_Ok, ok," Mariah lets down her guns, holding her hands out in defeat."We'll change it. I'm sorry, Olivia, it was not my place."_

"_No, Mariah, it's fine. I think I'd like to keep it, Elliot's name. You're right, my son deserves it. He won't be my secret any longer."_

"I am. Thank you. So," Olivia jokes, "Elliot must be pleased, two weeks of peace and quiet for him, have you met my temporary replacement yet?"

The other shoe has dropped. Kathy knows now, why he was in such a hurry to leave. He didn't want to be caught; his trip had to seem legitimate. She knows that Elliot will split the money between his children, and wonders just how much of the cut Olivia is actually getting. Newborns are expensive; Elliot will want to make sure that Olivia is taken care of.

Which still leaves the question begging, why doesn't Olivia know?

"Olivia," Kathy's not sure what to say. "Elliot's not here. He hasn't been here for the past week and a half." The blond woman takes a breath, her heart is thundering inside of her chest. "Elliot took up a job overseas, he's somewhere on the front line right now."

"Oh, Kathy, I'm sorry." Olivia wonders if she's managed to keep the tremor from her voice, because she's shaking right now, but she can't give the game up. Elliot, overseas, what the fuck is he thinking? "He didn't ... I mean, not the Marines?"

"No, it's an independent company," Kathy explains.

"I'm sure the kids miss him. I'm really sorry, Kathy, but I have to speak to the Captain. I'm sure I'll see you around."

With Emery sleeping soundly upon her chest, Olivia tries to calm her emotions, but the door to the Captains office is very nearly thrown off its hinges as her mental state gets the better of her. Her son stirs from slumber, his cries breaking what's left of her volatile heart. She's a breath away from joining him with her own little pity party.

"I told him that he was a selfish bastard, Olivia. But you know Elliot, can't argue with the man."

Olivia watches him pull an envelope from the top draw of his desk, handing it to Olivia. It's stained with coffee, and grubby finger prints and it reminds her so much of Elliot. He must have been in a hurry.

"It's the details for an account he set up for you and Emery. A checking account for child support, the trust is for his college fund. Six hundred a month, to be split, four hundred for support, the rest into Emery's trust. He's giving you one thousand neat, every month, transferred on the same day as your department pay. It's all here in writing. Eli has an identical account in his name."

"And the other kids?"

"Elliot made sure that everyone is taken care of. There's also a cheque, in the envelope, it's a one off lump sum, to get you started."

"That's what you were talking to Kathy about?"

Cragen nods his head in confirmation.

"Why didn't he just tell me? I mean," Olivia has to watch her words. "He thinks of Emery as his son, why would he leave without saying goodbye?"

Knowing that there's no way he could ever hope to explain Elliot's logic; Don simply motions towards Emery who has worked himself into a state of distress.

Olivia takes the time to remove her son from his carrier, cradling him against her shoulder, her hand supporting his delicate neck. She marvels at the fact that he can pick up her emotions, half of the time they don't make a lot of sense, she's not even sure that feelings were made to be logical. She needs to take control for the sake of her son, he is her priority now.

"He's tired;" Olivia says as she sways her son. "I really should get him home. I'm sorry; I only came down to check on my maternity leave. I wasn't expecting any of this today."

* * *

She needs something special, she needs to cuddle with her baby boy, his powder fresh scent wafting across her senses, reminding her that she does not walk alone.

"You know, don't you?" she asks him, "You know that he's gone, baby."

She traces the length of Emery's tiny fingers, circling his palm with the tips of her own, and laughing when his body trembles in response. He enjoys the attention and the day when she will finally hear him giggle with glee cannot come soon enough. He shines a light upon her heart, and she hopes that some day he will fulfill his dreams. She hopes that some day, he will know his father.

She eyes the envelope on the dresser to her left. She rolls her bottom lip between her teeth, agonizing over the contents.

"What do you think? Should we find out what Detective Dad left us?"

Just as Don had detailed, there are Instructions for accounts held in the name of Emery Stabler. Cocky son of a bitch, he's always been presumptuous. There's a cheque made out to her, and something that the Captain hadn't mentioned, a note, scrawled in the illegible hand of one Elliot Stabler.

Olivia stares at the words on the page. For all the words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these.

_I love you. I'm sorry._

In the end though, actions speak louder than words ever could, they carve a niche that silence cannot heal.

Olivia seals her lips tightly against Emery's forehead and continues to rock him. She'll always be here.


	6. Mothers

**Thanks to Cori for the beta!**

**I don't own them, I just share.  
**

* * *

"It's a cough, a bit like a barking cough. That's the only way I can explain it. What should I do?"

"_Is he having difficulty breathing?"_

"He just, he won't stop crying," Olivia holds the phone up under her chin, her son cradled in her arms. "That only seems to make it worse."

"_If he has a fever then you should take him to your nearest hospital, Miss."_

Olivia struggles across the parking lot with her son in his carrier and a loaded diaper bag hanging from her shoulder. Emery crises insistently into the dark that's beginning to creep across the early night sky, his breathing seems labored and try as she might, Olivia can't help but worry for her baby.

Kathy Stabler checks her watch; she can't afford to be late today. Coming off an all day shift, she's already missed closing time at the center this week. That takes her into non core time which inadvertently ends up costing her more.

The automatic doors spring into life and Olivia steps across the threshold, absorbed in her son and completely oblivious to her surroundings. Kathy watches as Olivia flounders, taking a seat to try and compose herself. She hesitates a moment before approaching the new mother.

"Olivia?"

Kathy finds her on a seat in the foyer. Emery's carrier is at her feet, the diaper bag still slung over her shoulder. Fresh tear tracks stain the apples of Olivia's cheeks, and Kathy silently curses her husband.

"Olivia, listen to me. I need to make a phone call. I want you to wait here for me, ok? I need to make sure Mrs. Sanderson can get Eli from Day-care. I'll just be over here," she points to the opposite side of the room.

Olivia fiddles with the cuff of her jacket while she watches Kathy. She takes Emery from his carrier and sets the bag on the chair to her left. How could she have let it come to this, her child is in pain and she can't possibly make it any better.

"It's going to be alright," the other woman assures her. "Let's get him up to pediatrics."

Olivia sighs. "He should be here. He should be here."

Kathy looks on with sympathetic eyes, it's hard when it's your first, you're so out of your depth, when the child's father has joined the Marines, and left you at your whits end. How can she possibly blame Olivia?

"I know," Kathy comforts her, "I'm sure he would be, if he could." Kathy decides to keep her mouth closed; no good will come from calling Olivia on this one. She can pretend too.

"Jenny," Kathy calls the nurse at the front desk. "This is Olivia Benson, and this," she takes the child from Olivia's arms, albeit reluctantly, "this is little Emery."

"Goodness, he has a rather nasty stridor, doesn't he? Let's get him into exam room two, and I'll page for a Doctor."

Olivia turns to the blond woman, surely she owes her this much. "Thank you, Kathy. I ..."

Kathy nods. "I'll be right here. I'll wait for you."

"Croup," says Jenny, it's viral, so that's of small comfort. Bacterial at his age, I'd hate to think," the nurse mumbles on. "Kathy, about Emery, do you know who his father is? Because his file says ..."

"You know what," Kathy holds up a hand to the woman, "I can't do this right now, I'm sorry, I can't. Just tell me that he's going to be ok?"

"Kathy, you can't let this lie, for Christ sake, there's a little boy in there, and according to these notes, he's got the same father as your five do."

Olivia's his partner. She was, his partner, before the bastard left." Kathy exhales, her chest is tight, her worst fears having been confirmed. "I want to nurse him, Jen. I don't trust anybody else, especially when this information becomes common knowledge."

"Kathy, I'm pretty sure there's some kind of policy against that, he's ..."

Kathy cuts the woman off mid sentence. "Technically, he's no relation of mine. Not by blood, not even by marriage. I'm not his step mother, he is not my son. I'm not breaking any rules."

"Jesus, Kathy, you're married to Elliot, legally, Emery is a Stabler, he's not Emery Benson. It's all here," she says, handing over the manila folder. You should read it first, before you make any kind of decision..."

"He's six weeks old; it's going to be hard to keep him calm, to give him the best chance. How is his oxygen saturation, does he need to be intubated?" Kathy cuts off Jenny's diatribe mid sentence.

She knows that she's in nurse mode now, a mode of conduct, a standard of courage and of discipline. She falls back on her training, devoting her attention to the child of the hour. It's the only way she can coax herself through the doubt and self loathing, it's the only way to accept the fact that her marriage has come to an end and there was not a damn thing that she could do to stop it.

"Kathy, calm down. You can speak to the doctor." There's seems to be a long pause before Jenny continues. "Have you got a contact number for Elliot? He'd want to know."

Kathy shakes her head. "No. He didn't leave contact details."

Jenny points to the room where Emery has been settled. "Olivia asked after you. You might want to go and see how she's doing."

Kathy stands at the door and watches the tiny child, the nasal cannula delivering oxygen to his depleted lungs. It looks frightening. Kathy falters, grasping the door frame to keep herself on her feet as for the first time she's forced to concede that this child has been fathered by the man she loves. He is Elliot's son, and yet, he's as innocent as the rest of her family.

"How is he?" Kathy asks the Doctor on call. Miller, she knows that he's one of the best.

"Definitely croup, most likely triggered by an acute viral infection of the airway. He'll need half hourly observation, we'll treat him with steroids, and keep up the oxygen to aid his breathing."

"But he'll be ok?" Olivia doesn't lift her eyes from her child; she sits still, holding her vigil over him.

"Yes, Miss Benson. Your son will be fine. We're going to start him on antibiotics now, as I explained to you earlier." The doctor turns to Kathy. "Keep me updated, I'll be back to check on him later. Try to keep him comfortable."

Olivia can barely wait for the doctor to exit the room before letting her emotional upheaval get the better of her.

"I bet you'd never let your children get as sick as this."

Kathy leans over to caress Emery's forehead with the pad of her thumb. She tucks her thermometer into the small boy's ear, trying in earnest not to jostle him from slumber.

"When Maureen was twelve months old, she was teething; poor thing had a terrible time of it. Elliot was off with the Marines, he'd never had the best relationship with his mother, so I was isolated to say the least. Maureen had this fever; I had no idea what to do. I gave her children's paracetamol, but it didn't seem to help. Turned out she had an inner ear infection. She was in the hospital for days."

The thermometer chimes and Kathy checks the boy's temperature, going through the usual motions, and jotting notes upon his chart.

"One hundred even, his fever is breaking. He's going to be fine, Olivia."

Kathy fingers the clear, plastic name tag that has been attached to Emery's ankle. It identifies the child as Emery Stabler. "I can have this changed to Benson, if it bothers you?"

"Does it bother you?"

"Olivia," Does it really bother her, when she'd known that someday, this might happen? "I just want your son to get well again. That's my job, that's why I'm here."

Olivia continues to guard her son. Her emotional reserves are severely exhausted; she's less rational than she normally could be. Perhaps, it's just a learning experience. She continues to force Elliot deep into the hollows of her mind. She can't maintain this veneer for much longer. She's exhausted all possibility.

"I have to get going, Olivia. I need to get home to Eli, the twins can only put up with him for so long. Emery is stable right now, and I'm on the morning shift at eight, but you know where to call if you need me, right?"

Kathy is met with silence. The only solution is to withdraw and restore herself. She needs to have a long-term perspective, and right now, that's not looking so good.

* * *

Kathy sits in her car, still parked in the drive way. She draws a ragged breath, thinking back over the events of the day. Her cell vibrates frantically within her pocket. Digging around like a lost cause, she withdraws the phone and hits the talk button. The line is sketchy, but she knows the voice.

"Kathy?"

"Elliot? Where the hell are you? What's going on?"

"Kathy, I'm fine. I caught a spare moment, thought I'd see how everyone is."

In the presence of her husband, Kathy succumbs to her intimate break down. Her heart sits, divided, but Elliot needs to hear the truth.

"We're not ok, Elliot. None of us are ok. Three times this week, I've had to work overtime. I was late picking Eli up. Do you know how much extra a week that costs me?"

"Kathy, calm down. I'm sending you money; there should be plenty to cover it."

"But it doesn't, Elliot. Not when you're money is split between the two of us now."

Elliot remains calm. He's not easily disturbed.

"Kathy, the kids are all getting money. It shouldn't be a problem."

"I know about Emery, Elliot. I ran into Olivia at the hospital today. The poor woman was in distress. Imagine my surprise, when my patient turns out to be a Stabler."

Elliot's blood runs cold, and he's frozen with guilt or grief, either is possible.

"Kathy, please. Tell me that little boy is alright. He's six weeks old, he's my ..." Elliot sighs. "He's my son."

"I just needed to hear you say it." Kathy sighs, part pain, part resignation. "He'll be fine, Elliot, just a nasty bout of croup. I don't think Olivia's handling it too well. "

"Kath ... I'm sorry."

"I know. I think you should call her, Elliot. She's not responding to anybody at the moment."

"I'm not sure she'll respond to positively towards me either. I'm pretty sure she's still angry with me."

"Have you got a pen? I'll give you the number."

* * *

"Ms Benson, there's a call for you."

"Could you tell them that I'm busy, please? I'm not accepting calls right now."

"Olivia," Jenny Moore lowers her voice. "It's Elliot Stabler."

"I'll take it. Thank you."

"Liv,Liv?, are you there? What's going on, Liv?"

"I'm here. How did you get this number? Are you home? Where are you, Elliot?"

"No, Liv. I'm not home. God, I miss you, I miss our little boy. How is he? Kathy told me."

"He's sick, Elliot. How do you think he is? He's sick, and your wife, Elliot, your wife is taking care of my son. You should be here, Elliot. Not Kathy."

"Liv, I ..."

"No, stop. You don't get to say that you're sorry. You don't."

"Just tell me that Emery is ok, Liv. That's all I want to know."

"Will you come home, Elliot? Is he enough to bring you back?"

"I can't, Liv. I'm sorry, I can't."

"Goodbye, Elliot."

"Liv, Olivia Benson," he screams into the receiver. "I love you," falls upon deaf ears as the dial tone replaces Olivia.

Emery sleeps peacefully in his humidicrib confinement; the only visible signs of his earlier distress, a chesty wheeze that causes him to exhale roughly. He looks so much like his father, a miracle in living flesh.

"That was your daddy," Olivia says absently, her fingers stroking the plastic contraption. "He loves you, very much, and he's so sorry, that he can't be here with you."

She will be strong now, the only cure for her heartache, is action. Her tears are not the mark of weakness, but the messengers of unspeakable love. No longer will she reflect upon her failures, she instead, vows never to repeat them.

* * *

Eli Stabler, his father's name sake, runs to meet his mother at the front door.

"Momma," he squeals, and Kathy remembers just how good it is to hear that sound.

"Hi, baby. How was your day?"

"Fun," the boy grins, just like he father used to.

"Hi Mom," Elizabeth calls from the sitting room.

"Hi Sweetheart, sorry I'm late again. Olivia's baby, he's really sick. She needed a hand."

"Mom, don't worry about it, is he going to be alright?"

Kathy smiles, her daughter, so full of compassion and forgiveness. She's a generous heart, a trait that she's really going to need, because sometimes, the truth is hard to accept.

"Liz, why don't you go and get your brother, it's time we all had a talk."

* * *

Elliot Stabler rests his head upon his rucksack. He pulls his blanket around his chin, his rosary beads, worn between his fingers. Hail Mary's just don't seem like enough anymore. His son is sick; his wife is ready to dish divorce papers. The real agony though, is the fact that Olivia refuses to speak to him. She might as well rip out his heart and just hand it to him right where he lies. He places his pistol up under his makeshift pillow and reluctantly, he closes his eyes.

"Oh God, the Father of mankind, who hast given unto me these my children, and committed them to my charge, hear my prayer. Teach me both what to give and what to withhold; make me to be gentle; yet firm; considerate and watchful; and grant that, both by word and example, I may be careful to lead them in the ways of wisdom. Father, Son, Holy Spirit. Amen."

He knows that no prayer will go unheard; he asks God for strength, that he might succeed.


	7. Combat

**Thanks to Cori for the Beta.**

**I don't own them, I just share.  
**

* * *

After several days of nothing but silence, the fear of the unknown initiates a damning path of downward spiral. He's hearing things that are not there. Emery's cries, and Olivia's moans, echo through his mind like a reflection from the past, footfalls on a path long abandoned.

They walk napalm up and down the ridges, they'll make the mountains burn. They listen for enemy movement; he plays this game with a smile. There is no force, to protect them from the brutal offense of insurgents, not when tactics are as old as warfare itself.

Word of their intentions, reaches those fighting in the north. They're requesting assistance; need help devising plans for assault against a radical stronghold.

They're true to their word, and above all of the politics bullshit, motivated only by their love and commitment to their country. In the end, cooperation seems more serene than either party would ever have dared think.

Elliot suggests sending forces to the south. The failure of assistance, of relief bogs him down, his heart already buckling under the weight of his own inadequacy.

The sullen face of his father mocks him, "My feelings for you shame me into silence, boy." The thought fills him with anguish, a burning humiliation that cultivates scar tissue.

He does what he can to alleviate the pain by awakening the better part of his life.

"_Is it warm enough?" comes Elliot's voice._

"_Mm. I'm not sure how you think this will speed up the process. I'm ready to take a nap. Care to join me?"_

"_I locked the door, so I'm pretty sure that the midwife knows that we're in here together, Liv."_

_Her body is heavy, her breasts are swollen and there's no part of her that's not overly sensitive. There has to be some way to convince him, she thinks._

"_Elliot?"_

"_Yes, Liv?"_

"_I want to try that nipple stimulation Mariah was talking about earlier. I need you to help me though, I need you to get rid of those pants, and get into this giant tub with me."_

_Nothing so bold as the direct approach._

_Elliot chuckles. "What, the walking didn't work, so now you're desperate? Come on, Liv, it'll happen when it happens, and when it does; we'll have our little girl. Besides, the stimulation was to induce labor; it won't make it happen any faster."_

"_That's not true. Mariah said the mothering hormone could help speed it along, if you won't help me, then go and get me a breast pump."_

"_Are you sure, Liv?"_

_When did his voice drop an octave? Olivia cocks an eye open, when did he lose the pants? _

"_El?"_

"_I'm right here, Liv."_

_His dick is long and hard and so thick that she wonders how she had taken him all. _

"_What are you going to do with that, Doctor Stabler?"_

_Elliot shrugs. "I thought you might like me to fuck our little girl out of there?" he gives her a confused look._

"_Elliot," Olivia's hands race to cover her belly. "Not in front of the baby. No language."_

"_Christ, Liv. Give me a break. This is what you do to me."_

"_Not that I'm complaining, but you do realize that I'm in labor, right? I'm about to give birth, that means the baby comes out. Things aren't meant to go in, Elliot."_

"_Shut up, Olivia."_

_Olivia rubs her belly as Elliot straddles the edge of the tub. "Do you hear that? That's how your daddy treats me little one."_

"_Daddy treats her better than that, little girl!"_

"_Oh yeah? You'd better show me, Daddy. I'm ready for you."_

_The water wallows as Elliot sinks to his knees in front of her. "Close your eyes, relax."_

_She rests her head against the lip of the tub, and he shifts himself closer, as close as he can possibly get to her. He caresses her neck; strong hands stroke her breasts, her belly. He holds his weight over her carefully, as he leans in to nip the skin behind her ear. _

_He devours her lips, drawing her bottom lip between his, sucking as her body arches into him._

_His dick aches, he wants to run his fingers through those enticing curls, but he reprimands himself, steadying himself as he runs a hand back down her torso and across the mound of her belly. He's trying to soothe her, because this is the last time._

_He takes one breast into his mouth; it's warm, full of the vitality that will soon sustain his baby girl. Flicking his tongue across her tempered bud, he sucks a little harder._

_Her quiet mewls are swallowed by the peace that surrounds them._

_He moves his fingers over the soft skin of her hip, and she tenses as another contraction hits her without warning. Elliot moves her into his lap, folding her into his arms and waiting out the tremor that oscillates back and forth. He presses his nose to the top of her hair and whispers over and over._

"_It's alright, Baby. I've got you, I'm here. I've got you, Olivia."_

"I've got you, Liv ..."

"Stabler, for the love of God, wake up, man."

"What?" Elliot opens his eyes and blinks away the remaining sleep. He strains to make out the figure before him. "Davidson? What the fuck?"

"You were talking in your sleep; we're all trying to get some shut eye. Do you think you could shut the fuck up?"

"Hey, Elliot," Jefferson's the first to ask the question that's burning a hole in their collective tongues. "Who's Liv? I though you said Kathy was your wife?"

A whistle goes up and the sound of guffawing parrots around the cramped accommodation.

"OK, OK, let's give the kid a break. He's obviously missing his Livvy Love right now."

The roar of laughter that succeeds the heckling is enough to stir a reaction from Elliot. "Grow up and fuck off you lot. Let a man get some sleep."

"Who is she, Stabler? Yo baby momma?"

Elliot rolls over and huffs. "Yeah, yeah, she is."

"Poor bastard. No wonder he's so broody. I got one of them myself, she's back stateside."

"Yeah," Elliot cracks his neck. "Good for you, now tell someone who gives a damn."

Elliot rolls onto his back, his arms folded behind his heavy head. He closes his eyes and for the second time that night, as he thinks about his son, and prays that he's alright, he wonders what Olivia's doing.

* * *

"Jeremy Montgomery. It's nice to finally meet you in person, Miss Benson."

"Please, call me Olivia. This is my son, Emery."

The slim, dark haired man with the olive complexion and very well toned arms inclines himself to the same level as the small child in Olivia's arms.

"Hello, Emery. Welcome to Lollipop Playhouse."

Emery's lids flicker, but this man is not his father. He doesn't recognize this voice. He gives a sleepy gurgle and settles back into his mother's arms, his interest having been piqued and in the very same breath crushed.

"So, how long will you be requiring care for little Emery, Benson is it?"

"Ah, actually, it's Stabler. Emery Stabler."

"I'm sorry. Stabler, no relation to Kathy Stabler, are you?"

"I got your number from Kathy," Olivia tried to steady her breathing; she reminds herself that all of this is for Emery. That she promised herself that she would do better for her son. "Emery is Eli's half brother. He's um, well, he's Elliot's son. My son, with Elliot."

"Oh well, I mean, I didn't mean to sound so," he has trouble finding the right word. "Accusing?"

Olivia shakes her head. "It's fine. Kathy and I have had that rather awkward conversation already. She knows, I'm not really sure how I ever thought we could hide it for as long as we did."

"Olivia, that's none of my business. There's no need for you to explain it to me. I'm just here to make sure we take care of this little guy."

"I know that you're not really right down the block from me, but it's really not too far out of my way, and we've decided that on the days I can't be here to get him, Emery will go home with Kathy. I'm sure you're aware of Elliot's current arrangement."

"Yes. It seems like he's given up a great deal. He's a nice guy, I respect the man. Fiercely protective, one of the few fathers I've had the pleasure of dealing with. You know, my father used to joke about sending me off to join the Marines when I was old enough. I'm thankful he didn't. I really love my job."

"I hear you work out of Long Island?"

"Right, the chain has centers all over the state. My office, as Director of care is located in Long Island, but I'm required by law to have contact in person with everybody who walks through these days. It's an insurance nightmare, but you have to put up with the red tape these days. I got bureaucrats busting my butt all day."

"It's funny you mention that, I work for the City of New York myself. I'm a detective, Elliot Stabler was my partner. We worked Special Victims together for twelve years."

"I'll keep that in mind, Detective." He gives her a coy smile. "So, let's take a look around. As you can see, our staff have are quite friendly, each person is handpicked, in accordance with state legislation, though you might have some idea about that already, obviously. Each carer has a minimum five years experience before we even think about hiring them, some of them are mothers, some of them, I must admit, are not. However, they all possess relevant qualifications; you want to be careful with infants, especially the newborns."

"Kylie," He calls a stout, younger looking woman over to his side. "Kylie, this is Olivia Benson, she's considering our care facility, she goes back to work in two weeks time. This is her son, Emery."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Benson. Isn't he just precious. How old is Emery, ma'am?"

"Call me Olivia, and its Miss, I'm not married. Emery is very nearly fourteen weeks old."

The kindly woman smiles, nodding emphatically. "Is he your first?"

"He is. But, ah, actually, his brother is enrolled here. It's partly why I'm considering the center."

"That will be reassuring for you."

Olivia is stunned, evidently she'd been expecting some big song and dance about the fact that this child was her first, yet he had a brother, a brother that they obviously knew beyond a shadow of a doubt.

"It's nice," she finally realizes, "it's nice for Emery."

* * *

"Thanks for coming to see us, Olivia. Listen, take your time, look around and consider your options. I know this must be overwhelming for you."

Emery fusses, kicking his feet in discontent. His cries are muffled as his head lolls to the side, resting against his mother's breast. Olivia pats her sons back, rubbing circles across his shoulders in broad sweeping strokes that would usually settle him.

"I'm sorry, but he's due for a feeding, I should really be going."

"Of course," Jeremy can see his chance, something that Elliot Stabler didn't. He's sniffing around like the winter has snowed him a crack cocaine habit. "Olivia, would you like to grab a coffee some time? I'd be more than happy to discuss your options further."

Olivia falters; surely to God this man is not hitting on her. What the hell does she do? Elliot has abandoned her; left her a single mother just trying to get ahead, trying to raise her child. She doesn't owe him anything, not anymore. Shit, she's been out of the dating game for too long.

"Sure, a change of scenery might be nice."

"Great," Jeremy hands her his card, "here's my number. Let me know when you're free, I can usually work around your routine. I'm flexible."

"Thank you. I'll see what I can do."

* * *

Olivia places the baby monitor on the dresser beside her, the bedside lamp is on low and it dimly shades the room with ambient light. She remembers the nights the Elliot used to lay here beside her in the months before they found out that she was to have his child.

_Elliot holds her against his chest, her back rising and falling as she calms her breathing. He circles her belly button with his thumb, thinking._

"_Liv, do you ever think about having a baby? I know you looked into adoption, but what about having one of your own?"_

"_I have, but it's never going to happen, Elliot. I've accepted that. I'm too old for the diapers and midnight feeds."_

_He can't shake the feeling that there's something she's not telling him. _

"_Liv, Kathy is older than you, and she's still doing it. It's more rewarding than you could ever imagine."_

_Olivia tries to shift from his arms, to leave his embrace, but he clings to her tightly, he's not about to let her go now._

"_Liv, what is it?"_

"_It's nothing, El. I'm tired, I need to go to sleep. I can't do that while you're holding me."_

"_You never had trouble with it before. What is this really about, Olivia?"_

"_You really want to know what's wrong Elliot? It's you." Olivia pushes him away from her, pulling the sheet up and standing away from the side of the bed. "You're the only man I have ever wanted to have a child with, a married man with five children of his own."_

"_Liv." Elliot cuts her off as she tries to ease her way past his side of the bed. _

"_No, Elliot. This is not up for discussion."_

"_Liv," Elliot is on his feet and heading off any possible course of avoidance. He wants her to talk this through; he wants her to know that he feels the same way, that if it hadn't been Kathy first, she would have been the mother of his children._

"_Olivia, please. Just stop and listen to me, Baby. We might never have one, but we can try, if you want? Whatever you want, I'll give it to you."_

_Olivia's frozen to the space that she currently occupies. Her body doesn't react; her ears are still trying to process his words – we can try._

"_Don't you get it, Elliot? It's not about how many babies we could have; it's about me and you. You're all I ever wanted, Elliot."_


	8. Wounds

**Thanks be to Cori for the Beta.**

**I don't own them, I just share.**

**A/N. This chapter was bittersweet for me, being an EO shipper, I struggled with it immensely. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.  
**

* * *

Leaving her expectations at the door, the aroma of fresh, roast morning coffee inspires Olivia's nostrils and she finds that she has yet another reason to justify her smile today. She can taste the shot of espresso in the air, and it's an open invitation, one that she can't respectfully decline.

She watches this man, this stranger, as he bides him time, supposedly anticipating her arrival. He's reading a book, and by the look of the cover, it's not a fictional piece.

_Intellectual Development._ True to his word, he's come prepared.

Olivia makes her way to the register, scanning the menu, she's flirting with the edge of reason, and she's dipping her toe into the pool, because today, she's decided that she's going to give something else a try. She owes it to herself, this chance to let her taste buds mature.

"A Venti Caramel latte, please."

Elliot, she inwardly chuckles, he would have laughed at her for indulging her sweet too ..." She swallows thickly, trying to brush the thought away. Elliot is not going to be the one to ruin this day.

With her mug of courage grasped tightly, Olivia cautiously approaches the man at the booth by the window.

"Jeremy. Hi."

He places his book upon the table, folding the corner of the current page as a guide. Standing quickly, brushing the crumbs from his lap, he offers her a seat.

"Olivia, hello. I saw you come in, but I thought you might be more comfortable approaching me. Please, have a seat.

"Thank you."

He smiles warmly, the corner of his mouth tipped up politely. "I'm really pleased that you decided to come."

Olivia makes a face and fiddles with the handle of her mug. "I almost didn't," she admits.

"Oh? What made you change your mind then?"

"Elizabeth decided that she wanted to spend the day with her baby brother, and Kathleen is there for the weekend," Olivia laughs, "I didn't really have a choice in the matter."

She's decided not to tell him that coffee was just one of Elliot's various weakness's. When she needed coffee, he was the one to attend to her needs. He always knew, it was just how they rolled. Sometimes, when he was feeling generous, she'd get a donut too, or a custard Danish when the cravings had set in. He was an ass, but she can't deny that Elliot always took care of her.

"Well, it's great to see you. How is Emery?"

"He's growing up, looks more and more like his father each ... oh my god. I'm sorry."

He places his hand on top of her own where is lies on the table between them, making her frown.

"Olivia, it's ok, Elliot is his father. He's always going to be a part of your life."

"I've been here for less than an hour, and he's the first thing I talk about. I'm not good at this kind of stuff."

"Olivia, please stop. I want to get to know you, and Emery is your son. I don't know Elliot Stabler well enough to comment, so let's just start from the beginning, if you like. I'm not going to walk away. I know that you obviously love your son."

Olivia sips on her latte, watching as he holds her gaze. It's nice to have somebody throw themselves at her, with Elliot, it was a two way street.

"Why don't I tell you a little about myself? I'm afraid there's not all that much to tell. I'm forty five years old, single, I never married, no children. Grew up in Maine, used to launch the canoe when we were kids, paddled the lakes and ponds. Ever been through a narrow river gorge of white water?"

Olivia shakes her head, "I used to rock climb, in my spare time, but then work got in the way, I always seemed to have an excuse. Now that I've got Emery to think about, it's impossible."

"I'm sure his sisters would take care of him for a weekend or so, maybe that's something we could think about at some stage, if you like."

Olivia blushes, he's cute enough, charming and enigmatic, even though he pretends not to be aware of it. But he's not Elliot, not by a long shot. No man will ever be.

"Yeah, we'll see."

She wonders if Jeremy will catch her when she falls. Some people wait forever for a moment like this, but she's learnt the art of self-sabotage, has perfected it so painstakingly, effectively, could she actually go about making sure that this doesn't happen? What if he is the one? What if Elliot's not?

Olivia sighs. "So, Kylie tells me that Emery is settling in really well at Lollipop Playhouse. I'm not sure he does all that much though."

"Oh, I brought this book for you, I don't know if you read much, I'm guessing you don't really have the time, but it's a great book, it's all about child development."

"It's frustrating for poor Eli, he just wants to play with his little brother, he doesn't understand. Rick's at the age where little brothers are so 'uncool'. I can't imagine how," Olivia takes a breath, because she has to get this out, she needs to get past the syllables. "How Elliot leaving has affected them."

"It must be rough, one minute your dad's there, the next he's gone. I hate that he's done this to you, Olivia. You deserve so much better."

Olivia opens her mouth to respond but she's beaten by the bell as the sound of her cell phone catches their attention. Another distraction requiring her undivided attention, perhaps she should just take it for face value for once in her life. It's not a sign that this won't work.

"I'm sorry, got to take this."

He nods, he understands, even if he doesn't like it. This was supposed to be their time, the beginning of a beautiful new relationship. He holds his smile as she watches him. He's sure he can help her forget about Elliot Stabler, he is sure that if she just gives him the chance, he can make her happy too.

Olivia snaps the phone shut and looks at him with her burnished expression. "That was Liz, apparently she can't settle Emery. Kathy tried, but it seems like he's had his fifteen minutes of fame and he'd like to go home. I hate to have to do this, but I really have to go."

He takes a minute to graze his thumb across her knuckles. "its fine, I understand. I ... I really had a nice time."

"It was nice. Thank you."

"Maybe next time we could try for dinner, something casual?"

He watches patiently, as Olivia considers the proposal, but he can also see the indecision, as he catalogues her features, watches her face contort with the conflict that causes her concern. He's starting to feel tense himself.

"No pressure, you have my number, just let me know."

She knows that he's giving her an out.

"Come on, I'll walk you out, Olivia."

* * *

They're waiting on the border, a small outpost with a band of American soldiers. Their mission today is to make contact with the villagers who have information concerning the rebel forces infiltrating the area. They're supposedly reliable sources, used as a go between with the promise of food for their bellies.

Gathered around the protection of a crudely erected clay, slab refuge, the thick stench of gun powder is nauseating, death seems to be all around them, but still they keep to their formation, no more than fifteen feet apart.

The explosions catch them by surprise, Elliot reacts on instinct, dropping himself to the ground and scrambling away as the wall comes to pieces in rubble around him.

They're too close to the truth. Somebody had been expecting them.

One soldier is dead, three are wounded critically. They fall back immediately, calling for the medic, trying to take cover.

As the chaos erupts, the shooting begins. The wounded barely have time to defend themselves against the onslaught.

Elliot angles his rifle, firing a round in the direction of the enemy ambush. He's shooting blind, fast and frequently as the terror surfaces and the pent up adrenalin fuels his madness. He defends himself, he defends his colleagues, praying that God will spare his life, that his weapon will sustain him.

In a split second Elliot's clarity is replaced by confusion, his body trembles, his breathing becomes haggard as he tries to expel the air from his lungs. The pain burns, like a hot coal lodged within the cavity of his chest. He's been hit, and he's losing blood as the clock ticks over.

He closes his eyes; he just needs to rest them for a while, to conserve his energy. His surroundings are foreign, space, like time, converges upon him, setting his body free, the light of the lamp grows dim and he finds that he is calm.

He obeys the voice, the one telling him that he's not alone, that he came here to fight, but the wick draws upon itself, and the oil smokes as he chokes on the fumes. He can see his lover's eyes, vexed with tears. He wants to hold her closer; he wants to feel her hand upon him, he wants to whisper her name.

"_Don't say goodbye. Don't turn towards that door."_

She sheds big, fat droplets as she wastes away, until all that's left are memories of a happy yesterday.

He's dying. He should stop himself, but he's not sure he's that strong. He was meant to go when he was old and grey, Olivia's papery hand in his, his children, and theirs safe in the knowledge that he loves them all. He needs his love by his side as he takes his last breath. He tries to make his lips comply, forces his tongue to form the vowels that are Olivia, but it's useless.

The tides of life turn against him, he can't stay afloat and he's afraid.

"L ...iv."

"You're fine, Stabler. Stay with me you fucking asshole, do you hear me. You're going home, and you're going to hug your kids and tell Liv that you love her."

The Army medic presses more gauze to the wound, his chest gushing crimson life blood, his abdomen and leg riddled with shrapnel.

"He's bleeding out. If we don't get him out of here now, there's not a lot I can do for him, I can make him comfortable, but that's about it."

His body is shutting down; he quivers as the cold sets into his bones, the peculiar sensation of hemorrhaging, like a slow seepage, leaving him empty inside. It's a classic case, and once the shock sets in, he'll be going home to a hero's farewell.

Jefferson crouches over Elliot, he can see that Elliot's eyes are bloodshot, his face pale and losing color quickly. His lips are blue, and his face is still spattered with the remnants of the men who stood beside him.

"You'll be alright," the other man repeats his mantra, "You'll be fine. We're ready to move out. I promised Masters that I'd have your back, you're not going to die on my watch, Private Stabler."

With his last breath before the flailing darkness claims him, Elliot wheezes, but manages to cough up her name, just one last time.

"O ... liv ... i ... a."

Elliot doesn't fear the end, he solemnly regrets it. The Lord is his shepherd and he'd like to follow, If he could tell him children just one thing, he would tell them that he was born so that they could shine on.


	9. Agony

**Thanks to Cori for the beta, and the inspiration to get this done!**

**I don't own them, I just share.**

**Got your tissues?  
**

* * *

"Hook him up to that IV." The Doctor points, "And pack the site, there's too much air going into the wound. Trauma from the bullet has caused a pneumothorax," the doctor looks up from the man on the table; he tries to steady his trembling hands. It doesn't seem to get any easier, not when you know that they're fighting for your freedom.

Robert Jefferson stands as close as he can to the side of the man on the table, he's screaming into his satellite phone, he needs a medivac, and he needs it now.

"Stabler, S.T.A.B.L.E.R, Elliot, Private, first class. That's right, Masters, Major Peter Masters. I don't care if his wife is about to give birth, and he's already scrubbed in. Get him on the phone, and do it now you maggot." He turns his head to the voices of the doctor and his team, listening as they try to save Elliot's life.

"We're losing him, pulse is weak and thready. He needs more oxygen, stat."

The woman, a combat nurse, on the opposite side of Elliot's body is the first to react.

"I've lost a pulse, we need to start compressions. Somebody bag him."

"Pupils are unresponsive, there's no reaction to stimuli. The damage was too extensive," the doctor explains to Jefferson, "There's nothing we can do. He's gone."

Jefferson pulls the man up by the lapels of his jacket, "No, he's not. Now I don't care what you have to do, if the man needs a ventilator, you get him one. So long as there's the mere whiff of life left in that man's body, you will send him home with it. Do you understand? Every man deserves his fair chance. Nobody dies on my watch." Jefferson gives the physician another hard glare before releasing him.

The doctor sighs, brushing his coat off and running his hand down his face, pressing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets tightly, feeling the strain.

"Continue compressions," Jefferson gives the order.

The nurse looks to the doctor, her eyes asking the question. He nods, he can't disobey an order, he's made a promise, sworn an oath to save the lives of those who needed him. This man, Stabler, he's no different, no matter what his prognosis.

"I'm not even sure I can pick up a pulse, Morgan," she tells the doctor.

"Try for a rhythm in his wrist; just remember that his heart is working overtime at the moment. I'll have to intubate, we'll take a look at his abdomen, clean up the worst of it. The leg, I'll do my best."

Jefferson watches Elliot's prone form, he doesn't blink, and he doesn't speak. Silence is his confirmation. There are no words that could convey his belief, he's not about to give up on Elliot, not now.

"I suggest you get onto your superiors and have him shipped to the nearest OR, we don't have those resources here, that bullet in his chest needs to come out, because if he doesn't regain consciousness soon … There's no telling what kind of issues he's facing."

Jefferson's not a religious man, but he finds himself wanting to pray, he's stuck between the truth and the gold of the dawn. He's still human. The sun will not set on the life of Elliot Stabler, and despite the dark shade of fog that has gathered around, his soul will still give light.

* * *

Elliot sits on the fluffy, white pillow of dense cloud, swinging his bare feet beneath him, the cuffs of his jeans rolled up past his ankles. In his wildest dreams, he hadn't ever imagined Heaven to be like this, so cliché.

Leaning back upon his elbows, he stares into the vast, blue yonder, watching cormorants dive in the afternoon sun, the colors of dusk, an illusion settling upon the horizon. There cannot be night without the day, and the transition is peaceful during that time. Petals embrace themselves against the dark, hiding their thoughts in the folds of oblivion.

Clouds grow thicker and hang lower, and blinds are drawn against the dying of the light.

An unfamiliar voice startles him; Elliot turns to see a grown man standing before him, eyes of electric blue gazing in his direction.

"Hello, Dad."

Elliot pushes himself into a sitting position and stares at his own reflection.

"Eli?"

The young man chuckles. "You have three sons, Dad. No, I'm not Eli."

Dickie is the oldest, the only one whose hair had taken on his father's tones, but those eyes, that face, the one that watches him, so beautiful, like a world full of sunshine.

"Jesus Christ. Emery? My baby? Look at you. Where's your mother?"

"It's been a while, Dad. Mom's … mom's gone now, she died years ago. A week after your funeral, John Munch found her in the crib; she used her own gun, bled out from a hole in the heart. I was just over six months old, Dad." Emery scratches his nose as he digs up the memory, it's like picking at a scab that's not ready to come free yet. "They lobbied for her to rest beside you. It's nice to be able to visit you side by side."

Elliot's soul is stripped bare, exposed as the tears reach his mouth, and he tastes the bitter defeat that stays upon his tongue.

"No, Olivia, she wouldn't do that, not to you."

"Just like you told her you loved her, and then left her to raise me, alone? Apparently there were a lot of things that my mom was capable of without you to stop her."

"It's my fault,"

Emery begins to laugh, and Elliot cocks his head in confusion, it's about as far from a laughing matter as someone can get.

"You know, Kathy used to tell me, all the time, that my mom and my dad were as stubborn as each other, she said that's why you made such a great couple. It didn't make a whole lot of sense then, but I get it now. You really love her, don't you, you love my mom."

"I was married," Elliot tries to explain to his youngest. "We had five kids, and I was committed to each one of them. Kathy and I … it was over, we both knew that. Sometimes, it's easier to live in ignorance, or harder, in your mother's case. She challenged me, she got under my skin and she stayed there, like a splinter, she festered. "

"Nice analogy, Dad."

Elliot shakes his head, he really is serious. "I couldn't rid myself of her, even if I'd wanted too. I still remember the first time we met each other. She broke all of the rules, and it wasn't long before I was breaking them too."

"Liz always says that I'm a chip off the old block, but that my attitude is all mom. It turned out alright, Dad. Uncle Simon wanted to take me in, but Liz wouldn't let Kathy part with me. Mom hadn't updated her will, and yours, well, I was lucky that you were on the ball. I'm proud to be a Stabler, Dad."

"We weren't expecting you, your mother and I, you were a surprise the Lord blessed us with. But I loved you, just like I loved the others, little man. The day that you were born, it killed me, having to leave like that. I made a mistake; I thought I was doing the right thing, providing for two families, I was just a coward."

"Dad, this isn't right. You need to go back; you need to wake up now. I love my brothers and sisters, and Kathy turned out to be alright, but she's not my mom. I want my dad to tuck me into bed at night, not my big brother who couldn't give a stuff half the time. We need you, Dad. We love you, Dad."

Elliot pats the space beside him, extending an invitation for his little man to sit.

"Let's just stay here for a while. I want to watch the sun go down, with you, Emery Stabler. I promise you, Kid, I'll go back and I'll fix this. We'll work it out. You know that I love you, right? You won't remember, but the last thing I said was that I love you."

"Yeah, I always knew, they made sure that I knew that you and mom loved me."

* * *

It's nice that she finally had an excuse to be able wear a dress. Her hips are curvy since she gave birth, her breasts are full, and they fill out her v-neck bust nicely. The heels make her feel sexy, like a woman who likes to live dangerously.

"You look gorgeous, Olivia. Stop fussing, I might actually blush again. Can I get you something to drink?"

"I'm just drinking water; I'm still breast feeding, so alcohol is out of the question."

Jeremy motions for the waitress as she wanders between the opulent French doors that separate them from the alfresco diners.

"Ready for drinks, sir?"

"Yes, water for the beautiful lady, and a martini for me, stirred, please. No olive," he winks at the woman taking his order.

"No olive?" Olivia asks, curious.

"I don't eat green things. My mother tried to get me to eat vegetables, but brussel sprouts are evil. Makes you wonder why they let them grow into cabbages."

"I thought that was just something to do with boys and their overactive imaginations?"

Jeremy pitches her a glare that seems to say 'Best of luck with your son, sweetheart' and then starts in with an explanation.

"My brother used to tell me that cabbage was snot, and if I ate it, I'd turn into a snot monster. Charming lad he is, probably best he ended up being a doctor, he could do with the biology lesson."

Olivia doesn't let that fact escape her mind; doctors are always hard to come by, especially at three in the morning.

"Can you believe the price of this salmon?" He's perusing the menu, trying to make a decision when the waitress returns with a tray full of drinks.

"Are you ready to order now, Sir?"

Olivia waves her hand, shaking her head at him. She hasn't even made it to the mains section yet.

"Give us a couple of minutes."

"It's been a while since I've eaten out." Olivia thinks about all the times she and Elliot sat on her couch eating Chinese, and scoffing down pizza, their son between them as they joked about naming him Kung Pow or Chow Mein.

"I was only joking about the price; Olivia. I don't want you to go home hungry. Whatever you like, that's what I want you to choose."

"The steak looks inviting, but I think the turkey is appealing to me, honey and mustard, oh, and crispy potatoes," Olivia smiles. She's worked up an appetite, the nerves wrestling with her insides and leaving her mouth dry.

Her cell is on silent today, but Jeremy catches the light from the corner of his eye as the home screen flashes, signaling an incoming call.

"Olivia, your cell is ringing. You should answer it, might be important."

"I'm so sorry," she opens the phone, placing her hand over the receiver. "Guess I don't have very good timing.

Sighing, she speaks to the caller. "Hello, Kathy, it's fine. What's wrong, is it Emery?"

"_Olivia, I'm so sorry."_

Olivia's heart starts to beat out of synch; she's building up that suit of armor, she's trying not to hyperventilate. "Kathy, what is it?" She holds her breath, not even daring to move despite the fact that her hand is shaking.

"_I just got off the phone, I had a call from a man called Peter Masters, he's a friend of Elliot's. Olivia, I don't even know where to begin."_

Olivia is frantic now; her hand grasps the tablecloth, her knuckles aching from the pressure of her grip.

Jeremy sits across from her, trepidation written plainly on his face. He can see that she's worried; so he takes her hand, trying to calm her.

"Kathy, just tell me. What is it?"

"_There was an accident, Olivia. Elliot, he … oh God, he was injured, really badly. They said he was shot in the chest and the abdomen. They were trying to get him back to the states."_

Olivia gasps a sob, swallowing the lump that has formed in her throat. She tries to stifle the noise, with the back of her hand, but Jeremy won't let go, he squeezes, threading their fingers together, fitting his between the gaps of hers.

"What do you mean they were trying?" Olivia whimpers, "They should be still trying, did you call Cragen? There must be something we can do. I'm not going to let them give up on him, Kathy."

"_Olivia, Pete, he's a Major, with the Marines, he served with Elliot, he says his information is sketchy, he's trying to contact somebody named Jefferson. But Olivia," Kathy chokes, "He said that Elliot … that he … God, Olivia, he said last he had heard, they lost Elliot on the table. He's gone."_

"No, no."

"Olivia," Jeremy takes the phone from her trembling hands. "Kathy, hi, it's Jeremy. I'm bringing her home, right now. Take care of yourself, we'll see you soon."

Jeremy kneels before Olivia, his hands framing her face, his thumbs, caressing the smooth skin of her cheeks.

"Olivia, I'm going to take you home, it's going to be alright. Is it Emery? Can you tell me?"

Olivia shakes her head, trying to force the word out of her mouth.

"El."

"Elliot? Something happened to Elliot?"

Olivia tries to gain a sense of semblance, she tries to form a coherent thought, but she can barely nod. Her body is wracked with convulsions as she tries to hold back the tears that have risen, that are threatening to break and cloud her vision.

"Ok, ok. You're going to be ok. Let's get you up, we'll get you home. I'll take you back to Kathy's, you can see Emery, and he'll make you feel better."

"Dead," Olivia manages "Kathy said that Elliot is dead," she cries into her hand, allowing the teardrops to fall along the length of her face, they gather at the end of her nose, and trickle in a steady stream, like a summer's rain drizzling across the frosted glass of a window pane.

She sucks in a breath, grasping for Jeremy's shirt. He allows her to fall into his arms because she needs his comfort, there's nothing even remotely sexual about this. He holds her loosely, rocking her back and forth, the other occupants staring on in shock, wondering what the hell is going on.

"It's ok, Olivia. Let it out. We're going to deal with this, I'm right here; we'll get through this together."

Grabbing her purse, he ushers her towards the side door. He takes his suit jacket, folding her into it, covering her shaking body, and leading to the car where she can break down in privacy.

"He can't be," she tells him, "He can't be dead, I can still feel him," she places her hand over her heart, absorbing the steady rhythm, they share one life, one child, they share one love. Elliot is her companion, her guide, the one who can take her breath away, the one who can hold her body in the palm of his hands, she aches for him, only he can keep her alive. "He's not dead," she says again, forcefully, with conviction. "He's not dead."


	10. Hero

**This chapter is for Cori, and Anna and Luke, because they give me courage.**

**I don't own them, I just share.**

**Enjoy.  
**

* * *

"He looks so pale, are they really sure it's him?"

"Liv, they made a mistake. Elliot isn't dead, but remember what Kathy said, it's still touch and go."

"It's not Elliot. I've never seen him like this, so still, so peaceful. It's not the Elliot I know ..."

_He's beneath her, and she surrounds him. Tight, she's so tight against him. So tight that it seems as though he can't hold on a minute longer. He wants to though; he can't possibly bear the thought of letting go. This is the time, and the place. To forget about their troubles, to want, for the best, just to hold each other. _

_They're silent. Using only the talents they each possess. There are no words needed. _

_His eyes are closed, but he can see clearly. His ears cease to listen, but he can hear her, silently, she sings to his heart through their union. She makes no noise, only rhythm._

_He doesn't notice a single thing about her, just her presence, and the way that he encumbers upon her physical space._

_No yesterday, and no tomorrow. Serenity is his freedom; she's the only peace he knows._

She thinks that what Jeremy doesn't know, can't possibly hurt him now.

Emery whimpers in his sleep, and Elliot's hand begins to twitch beneath thick layers of dressing.

"Oh my god, did you see that? Jeremy, did you see that? Elliot moved his hand."

"That's great Liv."

"Do you think he can hear us, maybe he heard Emery?"

"The nurse said in his own time, Liv. Just give it time. I know you're worried."

"He's Emery's father. I'd do anything for my son, to spare him the kind of pain I knew as a child." Olivia rolls her bottom lip between her teeth, trying to conceal the lies. "Em needs his father, Jeremy."

Jeremy sighs, he doesn't know the glossy details, but he knows enough to know that Olivia grew up without a father. He knows that's part of what makes her such a fantastic mother, he also knows that she's incredibly pig headed when she thinks she's right.

"Olivia, Elliot's kids have been there for you, they love Emery and you know that he's always going to be a part of that family, no matter what happens to Elliot."

"Elliot's going to be fine. He has his children to live for."

Olivia looks at Elliot, trying to fight the emotion that wells deep inside. The man, who caused her so much pain, is here, and he's helpless. It's not her Elliot, can't be her Elliot. He was her protector, had her back, was her partner. The relationship grew; they knew it was inevitable, her life, her love, faithful and true to the last beat of her heart. They were never only average. Forever searching, and striving to be the best. They'd acknowledged their need for one another.

She wonders when the give and take became selfish, when those needs were not fulfilled.

She grazes the tips of her fingers across the crown of her sons head, the downy soft tuft of dark hair reminiscent of his ailing father. The best gift he could ever give her.

"Yeah," she repeats. "Elliot is going to be fine."

If Jeremy notices the way her breath hitches when she mentions Elliot's name, the fact that her voice sinks just a fraction of an octave, and she all but purrs each vowel, each consonant, he merely blinks, he doesn't let on.

"Are you going to let him hold Emery, or are we just going to stand here, Liv?"

"Jeremy, he's barely conscious. I'm just going to sit with him for a while. He just needs Emery close at the moment."

There's a snide remark on the tip of Jeremy's tongue, but he keeps it to himself for now. Elliot Stabler is not a threat.

"I have a call to make," he bends to kiss Olivia's forehead. "I'll be back in a minute."

Olivia waits until the room is clear, until Jeremy is out of earshot, before she begins to speak. She's lost in her pain as she rambles.

"... You just packed up and left. No phone call, no time of day. How can I go back to what we had before that when you hurt me, El?" She takes a breath. "We had our sights set on something, Elliot. We were going to be a family. We had plans. We needed you."

She rattles off words and sentences, unaware of the madness unfurling beneath her very own nose.

The heart monitor on her right hand side, the one reciting Elliot's vitals, the one that was steadily thrumming, seems to beat rapidly now. Stronger. Faster.

He fights back.

Elliot's hands twitch, his fingers curl into a fist like he's grabbing for something, for someone. There's a garbled sound, like somebody is choking him, exerting unbearable pressure upon his larynx with all the might that they can possibly muster.

It's frightening.

"El, she leans over his body, whispering. "Elliot, can you hear me. It's me, it's Olivia. Let me get the doctor for you."

Elliot tries to yell, he tries to fill his lungs with enough air to be able to expel a bellow, a howl, hell, even a whisper.

'Liv,' he thinks. 'Please, don't leave me.'

There they are. The words of a hypocrite.

'Is that our baby?' he tries to shout, 'Little man, tell your momma not to leave me here. God, please, somebody. Don't leave me here.'

His mind is set to replay, the same scenario over and over again. There's no recollection, his thoughts are jumbled. He can't compose a coherent reaction. He's second guessing himself.

The lights are too bright; he can't seem to open his eyes. The pain is mind numbing. He doesn't want to die. There are so many other places in the world he would rather be.

"Mister Stabler, can you hear me?"

There's another voice. He's not sure he recognizes this one.

"Mister Stabler, if you can hear me, I need you to squeeze my hand."

Elliot closes his fist around the doctor's hand and though he is weak, he manages to put all of his concentration into the signal. He's squeezing, as hard as he can, but it feels like sand trickling through his fingers. Like he's holding nothing at all.

What the hell happened to his hand? Olivia was giving birth, why is he the one in this bed?

"Good, good. You're weak, but that's nothing we can't fix."

Elliot listens.

"Mister Stabler, I need you to tell me if you can feel your legs?" The doctor holds removes a pen from the breast pocket of his coat. "I'm going to roll back the blankets, and run this pen across the souls of your feet. If you feel anything, I need you to squeeze my hand."

Elliot watches Olivia out of the corner of his eye. Why is she standing so far away? Why can't she be the one to hold his hand?

'Are you doing it? I can't feel a God damn thing. Hurry up with your stupid pen.'

"Ok," the doctor frowns, "Good. That's good, Elliot," the doctor tells him. "I imagine your throat is dry, it may even be a little sore. Don't try to talk. I'll have to nurse bring you in some water. You're going to be fine. Your body took quite a beating; there was a lot of trauma, as you can see. But we'll have you walking again in no time."

He watches the doctor leave before his eyes move back to Olivia and his son. _His son._ He wonders what his name is. What did Olivia call their son?

He licks his lips, forcing his voice box to cooperate with his brain cells.

"... iv," he manages.

"Shh. Elliot, please don't try to talk."

He blinks. He thinks he might be trying to blink away the tears, but his eyes aren't moist. His head is still fuzzy. Did he miss the birth? Did he faint?

The silence between them is deafening. Maybe he's delusional, in the midst of a nightmare. Nobody can save him; he has to be able to save himself.

"I uh, I brought Em to see you."

Elliot furrows his brow.

"Oh," she realizes that he's confused. "Emery, your son, Elliot. Do you remember him?"

They'd warned her that his body was in a state; they'd even gone so far as to suggest that he may not remember her. But it isn't her he'd forgotten; it's their son, he forgot his own son.

She pulls the swaddle away from the baby's face so that his father can see their son.

"He still likes for me to wrap him, even though he's six months old, he really doesn't need it a lot now. But he's happy, so who am I to deny him."

Elliot looks intently at the sleeping child's face. Six months old. What the fuck is going on? Why has he missed out on six months of his youngest child's life? Where are the rest of the kids? They should be here celebrating his birth. Wait, six months old. Kathy and the kids had no idea that Emery was even his.

Elliot closes his eyes, willing his memory into overtime, trying in vain, to search for the missing pieces of the puzzle.

"Elliot," Olivia sighs. "You don't know what happened, do you? You don't remember."

An errant tear escapes the corner of Elliot's eye. He's not even sure why he's crying. Has he done something wrong?

"Hey, hey," Olivia soothes him. "It's ok. "It's going to be alright, Elliot. You'll get through this. And I'll bring Emery every day if that's what you need. It's fine, Elliot. Here, do you want to hold him?"

Elliot nods briefly.

Olivia pulls her chair over to the side of Elliot's bed. Gingerly, she lifts his arm, apologizing when he hisses, the pain, apparently, not as numb as he'd first established. Olivia slips their son into the crook of his arm, and the boy buries his face into his father's chest, relaxing automatically, breathing in time with the beats of Elliot's monitor, the thump of his heart. Olivia supports her sons back, and watches his father.

"I think he's missed you," she whispers.

He wants to ask if she's missed him too. Why hasn't she missed him? They were happy, did the baby change that? He's so confused. Why would she leave him?

A nurse enters with Elliot's water, a white straw hanging from the glass, and he wonders why the hell they insist on treating him like an invalid. He can hold a God damn glass.

She fiddles with the IV that's connected to a central line. He hadn't noticed the tube on the left hand side of his chest. There's a sticky pad just below the entry point. An ECG? What the hell? He's healthy, was he shot? Why did he leave Olivia when she was in the middle of giving birth? There are so many questions, questions he would like answered as soon as humanly possible.

"How are you feeling today, Elliot?"

He looks at the nurse and nods before turning his attention back to his son.

"Good. It's nice to see you awake for a change." The woman follows his line of sight. "He's gorgeous, who is this little mite? Is this your son?" She smiles at Emery, who sleeps on undisturbed.

Elliot simply nods again.

"He's going to be a heart breaker." The young woman turns to Olivia. "You must be so proud of them both, Missus Stabler."

_Misers Stabler._ She's not though, she's Olivia Benson, the other woman. She thinks about Kathy, about how they had to learn to tolerate each other when Elliot left. Though the feelings of betrayal and unease lingered, they had banded together for the sake of their children, _Elliot's children._

Olivia doesn't correct the mistake; though Elliot waits to hear the words tumble from her beautiful lips.

"I'll let the three of you have some time together. I'll be back soon to check on you, Elliot. How's the pain for now?"

Elliot nods, and the woman smiles.

"I'll take that as an ok. Remember to push the buzzer if you need anything."

Jeremy watches from the door of the room, as the scene before him unfolds like some sort of twisted fairytale, far more complicated than one thinks it is. Nobody lives happily ever after.

"How is he?" He asks the nurse as she passes.

"Mister Stabler is recovering nicely. He has a long way to go. I'm sorry; I can't tell you anything else. You understand."

"Of course, thank you," he smiles.

A long recovery indeed, he thinks.


	11. Waste

**Thanks to Cori and Anna for inspiring me.**

**I don't own them, I just share.  
**

* * *

"How are the kids?"

"Good. They're good. Eli misses you."

"Good," says Elliot, Tell him I love him. How is Emery? How is ..."

"Fine. Emery is doing fine. I'm sure he misses you too, but Elliot, you have no right to ask about Olivia. If you asked her about me, I'd expect her to keep her mouth closed."

"Kathy, I don't remember what happened." Elliot struggles to push himself into a sitting position, but Kathy dissuades him.

"Stay there and I'll lift the bed head for you; you need to let the wounds heal, Elliot."

"I can barely remember my son's birth, Kathy. There's no way I'd ever hurt Olivia. Why is she doing this? We've had our run-ins in the past, but we had to learn to work through them. More often than not, she left me."

"You didn't have a child together; it was just the two of you."

"Kathy, I ..."

"No," she holds her hands in front of her face, her body language doing the job that her words ultimately can't. "It's done, Elliot. I don't want to rehash the past."

"I would have expected you to move on. I mean, we built a marriage based on lust, we rallied around our children, we were so young, and we made it work, but you missed out on a life, Kath. I'd have been even more surprised if you hadn't moved on after finding out about Liv and me. But I thought that it would be different with Liv. I thought I could look over my shoulder and know that she was right behind me."

Kathy shrugs. "Jeremy is good for her."

"I'm not?" He asks indignantly.

"You're not easy to live with."

"I don't want him raising my son. Emery is my son."

"Nobody is disputing that, Elliot," she cocks her head and frowns. "He will always be your son, just like the other five will always be yours. It's no different than Maureen growing up and leaving home. You're not always with them, but you love them just the same."

"I love her," Elliot says as he lowers his head, his fingers scratching at the bandage securing the dressings on his arm.

"What do you want from me, Elliot? Do you want my sympathy? Do you want me to say poor Elliot, I feel terrible? What do you want?"

"I don't know what I want. I know that I see him with her, with his arm around her and it makes me angry. It makes me want to shove him into a wall and start laying into him."

"Elliot, you made your bed."

"I don't remember a thing about the accident; I don't even know why I was in the Middle East. I know I have a son who needs me, and all I get is a lousy daily visit."

Kathy has nothing to say. Somehow, the reaction she had envisioned, given the mess he's made, doesn't seem worth it anymore. She merely glares at the man in the bed before her.

"So they all need me. But Emery, he's barely seven months old. I didn't miss out with the others. I'll be damned if she's going to let me miss out on the rest of my sons milestones."

"Elliot, you need to worry about getting better. There's a hole in your stomach, and one in your leg. You've got burns and lacerations, and you need to take care of yourself. What are you going to do about rehab?"

"Kathy, you're not my wife anymore. That's none of your business."

"No. I'm not but ..."

She wants to raise her voice, wants to tell him that twenty odd years of marriage should count for something, five children, a union in the eyes of the Holy Father. But she doesn't.

"I do have custody of the children, and I think they'd like to know that their father was on the mend."

"I'll get it sorted."

Kathy stands, filling a plastic tumbler with chilled water from the mundane plastic jug, and helps Elliot to sip from the straw.

"One day, you're going to wake up and your family will have left, Elliot. I hope that day doesn't come tomorrow, because right now they're all that you've got and they're everything that you need."

"Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."

A third voice filters through their vehement musings. Engrossed in their animated conversation, both Kathy and Elliot fail to realize that Olivia is standing at the foot of Elliot's bed, Emery tucked into the crook of her arm.

"I can come back later."

"Olivia, stay. I'm sure Emery would love to see his dad."

"Dad would love to see his little man, hey buddy," Elliot smiles at the child, awake and alert his eyes wide and full of anticipation.

Olivia passes her son to Kathy, who nestles the small boy in his father's arms. Emery's tiny fingers manage to grasp the bandage that veils his father's being. He looks intrigued, as he awaits acknowledgment of his competence. But even with a touch that's barely there, Elliot feels the sting of the wound like a river lashing, like a swimmer who struggles against the rapid current, the pain engulfs him.

He grits his teeth, and the tears burn his lids poignantly.

"Elliot?"

"Fine, I'm fine, Kathy. He just nicked me," Elliot smiles shakily at the boy. "See, I'm fine, Bud."

By the time Elliot is able to compose himself, Emery has figured out that his fingers offer little resistance against his softened gums.

"Liv," Elliot inquires, "Have you got him started on semi-solids yet?"

"I Think that's my cue to leave. Think about what I said, Elliot. I'll bring Eli in to see you tomorrow. The older kids will be around when they can."

Elliot rolls his eyes keeping his attention focused solely upon his youngest son.

"Goodbye Kathy. Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

Kathy retrieves her handbag and excuses herself, stepping past Olivia. Shaking her head as she leaves, she has to have the last word. "I don't envy Olivia one bit," she says. "If she can put up with you and your crap, she's a better woman than I am."

* * *

"What was that about?" Olivia asks. She's watched them argue before, usually resulting in a temporary victory for Kathy and an indignant but subdued Elliot. He still has trouble admitting when he is wrong. The man has his dignity.

"Just my estranged wife talking out her ass again. How's my boy been?"

Olivia runs a hand through her hair, flicking the bangs from her face and tucking her fringe behind her ear. "That last comment must have had something to do with the drugs they have you on, because it's not like you to be so honest, El. You aren't usually this big an ass."

The look on his face is one she's seen a thousand times. It's every time a perp ever laughed in his face and called him a tough guy. It's the look she's seen him use with his children, his wife. It's we're not going with this line of conversation right now and I'm most definitely not letting up. It says, I'm an ass, even when I'm not trying.

"What do you want me to say, El? Emery is fine. I started him on rice cereal the other day. He's growing up, Daddy."

"Liv ... I'm sorry. You know that, don't you? I've done some stupid things before, but leaving him, leaving the two of you ... I just don't."

"Elliot, it's been a few weeks, give yourself a break. Your memory will return when the time is right. Do you need to take a nap? I can take Emery home."

"No," Elliot shakes his head. "Liv?"

"Yeah, El?"

"I need a place to stay, when they let me out of here. I might need a little help, and I want to be close to Emery. Is there room at your place?"

"Elliot, my apartment is tiny. There's barely enough room for Emery and I as it is. I'm not sure it's a very good place for you to recover. You need to go back to Queens, El. You need to let Kathy and the kids be there for you. They can help more than I can."

Elliot struggles to rub his forehead with is free hand, juggling Emery with the other. He's embarrassed, and the gesture does not go unnoticed.

"El ... it's just that, with Jeremy around all the time ..." She stops. "The house is full. There'd be no room for a wheelchair. You need specialist care that I can't give you."

"That's good. I'm glad he's there for you."_No I'm not. I hate that he touches you. I hate that it's not me. _"Emery needs that sort of stability."

"Elliot ..."

"I love my son, Liv. I'd move heaven and earth for him. If Jeremy makes you happy, then I don't mind if he's around Jeremy." _I mind. I do. He's my son you hear me, mine. My genes, my eyes, my family. _Elliot stares at the little boy in his arms. One hundred years from now it won't matter where he is, or what type of a father he was. The world will be a different place, he hopes, a better place. He'll rest proudly, knowing that in some way he helped. That he by the virtue of his son, he was important too. "Masters has been looking into the Veterans care program. He thinks he'll be able to swing a bed in my name."

"I'll bring Emery by to see you. I'm not going to keep him from you, El."

"I know what you're doing. I don't think it's a good idea, Liv. Weekends, he can hang out with the others. I'll get Dickie to pick him up on his way through."

"Elliot, he's your baby. He's going to need you."

"And I'll be here. Just a phone call away. But right now, he needs you. He needs stability, and he needs to learn. He should be playing with Eli, and screaming bloody murder at the rest of his siblings, not by his old man's side because his father is too lame to get his ass out of bed."

"El, there's no need to punish him for our mistakes."

"That's what you think of him, Liv? You think of Emery as a mistake, or is that just me? I'm a failure in your eyes. Can't make my marriage work, can't support my family when they need me both? Just go. Just take Emery and go, Olivia. Thanks for stopping by."

Before Olivia can take him, blue eyes meet blue, the connection between them insurmountable, but he has to let the boy go. A father left to carry on, his ties to the past, his road to the future. He'll never be settled.

"You son of a bitch. You're punishing me. You're going to hurt our son because of me? You selfish bastard."

Emery gurgles; a tiny sound in the back of his throat that makes his father smile.

"You want to play little boy? I'm not sure Dad has the energy right now."

The physical pain, the injuries and the surgery, they try to make that comfortable for him. The real aching though, that comes from the heart.

"What do you want from me, Olivia?" He asks. "I know what Kathy has told me, I'm sorry that I can't remember, but this isn't about that. This rehab facility, there's no way in hell I want my son to be subjected to that kind of hell."

Olivia plucks the spirited child from his father's arms. The pain is scribed across Elliot's features, but he remains steadfast.

"Say goodbye to Daddy, baby." _You may never see the asshole again. He's far too good at running away._

The reply she's not expecting shakes her to the core. He infringes upon her emotional state, like plucking her strings with his back to the wind.

"Just remember who the first to leave was. I wasn't the one who wanted to run, who left everything I knew and loved behind on purpose, Liv. I have all I ever wanted right here."


	12. Fracas

**I don't own them. I just share.**

**Thanks to Cori for all of her help.**

* * *

"Push it, Stabler. Lift your fat ass of the ground and stand up. Don't make me get down on the floor with you."

Elliot halts mid way through his strengthening exercises and looks up from his position on the padded therapy mat on the floor. Shaking his head, he hisses at the man by his side.

"Fuck off, Masters."

"Too much? Sorry, man, just trying to boost morale."

"Doctor thinks its nerve damage. He doesn't think there's much he can do about it. They make me do these damn exercises, but they don't expect me to achieve a full range of motion in the leg. It's pathetic and it's hurts, Pete."

"Man, when was the last time you saw your littlest guy? I know the ex missus was here this morning, what about the other one?"

"Emery, his name's Emery. He's fine, I saw him last week. I told Liv not to bring him here, he doesn't need to see him old man laid out like this."

"Helio, man, I know the doctor told you that you need to keep your spirits up. Being depressed is only going to stifle your recovery.

"He doesn't need to be here." Elliot's words are firm, his confidence and courage flow from his convictions. And though the hours tick by slowly, painfully, he's still loved, in spite of himself. His final test of will, put simply, is to carry on.

"You're still as stubborn as the day I met you, Stabler, still that same selfish kid running from his pregnant teenage girlfriend all those years ago."

Elliot ignores his friend, the one who refused to give up on him, the one who still stands here, by his side when he's at his lowest. He alienates himself from the proverb, and silences the voice that laments, like an impoverished fool.

The sentiment still screams from his gut, and his lungs burn, because the facts still exist and try as he might, he can't crush them. His blessings become his curse.

May the Good Lord protect him and bless him this day. Elliot Stabler is paying his dues.

"Give me a break."

He can't tell Peter that being here evokes emotions that he can't even begin to place. The sound of rapid gunfire echoes in his mind, an explosion surrounds him, he can hear the disturbance, but it's warped and muffled, like he's dazed. Moaning fills the infinite between two junctures. They say nothing, but silently, the wailing carries the merciful dark, rolled in impenetrable folds.

"Grow up," Masters rolls his eyes, "And tell me what she's like in bed?"

"You want to know what my ex wife was like in bed?" He's got to laugh at that one. "Cause I didn't tell you enough when we were kids."

"Bet she's not as tight as she used to be."

"Christ, Peter. We're Catholic, what do you expect?"

"Second thoughts? I don't want to know. Tell me about Olivia, I'm surprised you waited as long as you did, Helio. She's a fox."

If Elliot's looks could kill.

"She's a mother, have some respect."

"Shit man, I didn't realize you were that far gone. She's got you whipped."

"She's Emery's mother. You know damn well that I love my kids."

"Course I do. Maureen is my God daughter; it's my job to spoil her too."

"She's all grown up now; I don't think My Little Ponies will cut it anymore, Uncle Pete."

"El … she's still your baby."

"No, she's not. Emery is."

Elliot flexes his leg, the simple act of non weight bearing activity playing havoc with his mobility. His limbs ache, the pain cajoles through his body like a drowsy numbness that infiltrates his bones, seeping like toxic hate.

"Randy will be here in a minute for my therapy. The man is a sadist."

Masters nods. "Well, I should be going. I have a staff meeting at two. Give the man hell, Stabler."

* * *

Elliot recognizes a set of footsteps that succeed Pete Master's exit. Taking a deep breath, he realizes that he's ready to face his demons, lest he never recover.

Heavy, empty foot falls draw closer; they carry such burden, the trials of the enemy.

Elliot keeps his attention focused on the leg that's bound with a sturdy brace as he tries to elevate the injured appendage.

As the walking comes to a definite halt, Elliot tries to bait his aggressor.

"You ready for me, Randy? I've got some sexual frustration to work out," he jokes.

"I'm not Randy."

Elliot clenches his jaw in disgust. "No. You're not. What do you want? "

"I came to speak to you about Olivia."

Elliot shakes his head. "I don't have the time. I'm on a tight schedule." He continues to grit his teeth and push his body.

"So I'll talk, and you can listen. But I'm not leaving until I've had my say."

"She gave you a child, a beautiful little boy who depends on his mother. His father decided to take off half way across the world because apparently, that was the right thing to do."

"I have six children to support. Liv knows that I'd do whatever I had to do for them. Emery is included in that equation."

"She was right. You really are an arrogant bastard." Jeremy steps forward, looking down at Elliot, his arms are folded across his chest, but he's not stocky, not nearly as intimidating as Elliot himself can be.

Elliot is cut off as he tries to speak.

"I don't really care about your excuses, Elliot. I came here because she's moved on. She made a choice and she left you behind the minute you broke her trust. She's happy, we're happy together. Just let her go."

"As far as I'm concerned, I have. She took my son and left. You have my family, what more do you want? You want my gun and badge too? I know, why don't I give you my social security number, do you want my department pension too? Buy yourselves a little condo, so you can make nice with the missus?"

"Maybe I will. Because I'm not the bastard who left her alone, with a newborn and not even so much as an explanation."

Confusion suddenly grips Elliot with surprising force.

'_Elliot, why are you really doing this?'_

'_The money, Don.' _

_He doesn't mention Olivia and their child. In his own eyes he's not worthy of them._

Elliot scrubs a hand across his stubbled jaw. What the fuck was that? He shakes his head to clear the uncertainty.

… "Elliot, are you listening to me? She doesn't need the stress. So you can just drop the asshole act and stop trying to make her feel like shit."

"I'm done, and Olivia knows it."

"Then stop acting like something has crawled up your ass and died. I used to have respect for you, Elliot, the family man who would do anything for his kids, and look at you now. You're nothing but a pathetic waste of space. I want to feel sorry for you, but you just make me laugh."

Elliot is silent. He's been called an asshole before, usually it rolls right off his back, but this man, is his competition. And right now, he's got the upper hand.

"There's no need to thank me. I'm taking good care of her. Those curves, beneath my fingers, she's so soft. I can appreciate why a man like you would betray his wife. Olivia is perfect. When I feel her around me, she's all I want."

"Get out," Elliot all but whispers under his breath. His breathing is labored as he struggles to control his desire to knock the man's front teeth out. Bile is rising to base of his throat; he swallows thickly, the taste in his mouth so foul.

"You're not such a big shot cop when you're down on your ass, Elliot. Olivia is mine now. Don't bother coming back, because you're not welcome. "

Jeremy steps forward, and squats down so that he's face to face with Elliot to deliver the final blow.

"I don't abandon the people I love. I'm not trash like you, Stabler."

* * *

His vision is blurred. He rubs his temple trying to soothe the pain that has ascended, but when he pulls his hand away from his face; his fingertips are tainted with the smear of his lifeblood. The crimson blemish, marred by dust and sweat, a measure of his shortcomings. At least he fails while daring greatly. He knows not victory, nor defeat.

His body will not exist without blood, his soul, devoid the strength of love, of faith, closes in upon itself.

Between his dreams and his success, his mind allows one flailing memory to pass.

_Olivia. _

The faces of his progeny smile back at him. In wonder it began, in wonder it will end. His head hits the ground and his body surrenders.

Elliot snaps his head, his sodden face wakes him, and the misery sits with him. He places a hand upon his chest and breathes. In through his mouth, and out through his nose. Expending his energy.

Somebody stirs in the chair next to his bed and he turns to face them.

"Olivia? What are you doing here? Emery, is he …" Elliot chokes on his own words.

"Calm down, he's fine. I left him with Kathy and the kids."

"Why are you here?"

"Your nurse called. She said you were calling for me. She said that you've been having night terrors. El, they think you have PTSD."

"I'm fine. There's no need for you to be here. Go home and take care of your son."

"Elliot," Olivia grips his hand, he's shaking and sweating, he bleeds the scourge of war. "El, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

"Emery?"

"Is fine. Close your eyes, Elliot. I'm here."

Elliot settles himself into the orthopedic bed, his tender body willing him to take to sleep. He gives her a brief smile, and Olivia squeezes his hand, lacing their fingers, she's not going anywhere else. He closes his eyes reluctantly, and counts back from ten. He's out before he has a chance to contemplate what's going on.

Olivia watches him and expels a shaky breath, one she doesn't remember holding.

Her own experience with flashbacks was terrifying, but there's nothing she can do to save him.

He's suffering, because he risked himself for the sake of those he loves. Wounds that will scar, not suppressed by his limitations. She knows the caress of hurt, the one that gnaws and fumbles the agony of the mind. No one can avoid such defeat.

They've lost battles together, and they've conquered dreams, sometimes, without even knowing what they were fighting for. They pay a price just for being alive.

"Elliot. What happened to us?"

He looks just like her son in slumber. The way his eyelids flutter, his chest, rising and falling to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

Elliot shifts in the bed, turning onto his side, and the sheet that covers him bunches at his waist. Olivia spies the expanse of skin beneath the waistband of his pajama pants. She closes her eyes, and takes herself back. When she opens them again, the pants sit low on Elliot's hip, and there's something different about the view.

The delicate arches of dark symbols are etched into the flesh of his body. An 'E' rests beside an 'O'. They're perfect. Like the very fine swipe of a calligraphers nib, like they were always meant to be a part of him.

Olivia traces the lettering with her finger, and watches Elliot's body shudder beneath her ministrations. She'd not sure who the E stands for, perhaps it's Elliot, though, she likes to believe that the letter denotes Emery, their son.

"Oh, Elliot," she whispers. "I miss you."


	13. Over

**I don't own them. I share.**

**It's been a long time, but here is the next chapter. I've been very uninspired, lack of interest on readers part hasn't really helped any either.**** I'm sorry it's not much, hopefully most of you will be pleased with the outcome.**

**Read and review.**

* * *

"How did it go?" Kathy asks as she watches Olivia close the door behind her. They're standing in the foyer while Olivia removes her shoes and coat and unravels the scarf that hangs haphazardly around her neck.

Olivia shrugs and turns her back so that Kathy cannot read her expression.

"He's alright. He fell asleep not long after I got there. I think he's exhausted, he's not sleeping well."

Olivia rattles off her answer as if she's practiced it a thousand times. The way that the words tumble forth from her tongue offer Kathy some insight into her mindset and the tactful avoidance also does not go unnoticed.

"Want to try that again, with feeling, Olivia?"

Olivia sighs, her shoulders hunch and she turns to face Kathy, already completely uncomfortable with the situation.

"Kathy, I just want to take my son home with me. I did not come here just to discuss your husband with you."

Kathy folds her arms and raises her brow as Olivia tries to move around the woman standing in front of her. She's not ready for this conversation, though she knows that Kathy knows where they stand, Olivia is not yet ready to admit to herself the failings of her own relationship with Elliot. She prides herself on honesty, on hard work and commitment; she had been single for as long as she could remember, married to the job for most of her adult life, until she'd met Elliot.

"He's not much of a husband anymore, more of an acquaintance, by way of default and the children."

"How was Emery? I hope he behaved himself for you."

Olivia tries desperately to change the subject, she's afraid of what she might say to Kathy in the meantime.

"Olivia," Kathy grabs her shoulder, turning Olivia so that the two women are now face to face.

Olivia bites her bottom lip; she can't look Kathy in the eyes, afraid of what she might see. Afraid of what she won't see. She wonders why on earth she is in such desperate haste to succeed, why she feels like she has to come out as some kind of winner. This is not a competition; Kathy is not the other woman. If anything, she's the only other one who understands.

"It was hard," Olivia buckles, looking at the floor as she shuffles her foot, her toes caressing the carpet as she pads across the living room floor and throws herself onto the couch. "It was so hard to see him like that, not to be able to do a thing about it. Elliot was my partner, you know," She looks up at Kathy who has followed and is seated beside her.

Kathy nods, her head resting in her hand as her elbow rests upon her knee. She seems to be contemplating the situation, but she waves Olivia on with the rest of her explanation.

"I felt so helpless. I wanted to be able to help, but … I suppose I am still so upset that maybe, I let my emotions get the better of me."

"Emotions are powerful weapons," Kathy agrees. "I know when I was pregnant with Maureen; I was so young, so emotional. I think that part of me might have wanted to trap Elliot."

Olivia looks up at Kathy, surprise playing over her features as she listens to Kathy speak her mind.

"Yeah, I mean, I didn't really trap him, but I knew that I didn't want to be alone, I needed him more than anything. I would have done anything to make him stay. Thankfully he did, but, before we were married, Elliot left me. We had a fight, I hadn't been entirely honest with him," Kathy pauses for a moment. "There was somebody else, one of Elliot's buddies."

"Kathy, I had no idea."

Olivia is genuinely shocked by Kathy's revelation.

"I was young, I'm only human, Olivia. I guess what I'm trying to say is that Elliot is human too. We all make mistakes. He's a good father and a good man, and I know that you know him well enough to agree with me. He's been there for you more times than I care to remember."

Olivia has the decency to look sheepish.

Kathy chuckles. "I don't blame you, I should, but what's the point? Elliot was my husband, he should have known better. And hey, it turned out alright, old school friend, owed me a favour, got the ball rolling again and the divorce papers spoke for themselves. Elliot and I lived in ignorance for too long."

"I wish I had a better excuse for you, Kathy. I wish I could regret my actions, I really do, but I can't."

"Olivia," Kathy says earnestly, standing to her feet and looking at Olivia for a moment before she speaks. "Don't waste the chance you have. Elliot and I couldn't get our lives together and we wasted so much time. Don't do that to your son. Make a decision and move on, or give Elliot another chance. I would hate to see you waste away because you can't make up your mind. I would hate to think that my marriage dissolved and you and Elliot didn't work out."

The guilt gnaws at Olivia as she considers Kathy's words. She's angry at herself, she should have realised what Elliot was up too, should have put an end to his behaviour sooner. Now, they're all being punished for her lack of foresight.

"So what, Elliot and I just live in sin for the rest of our lives?" Olivia asks, standing to meet Kathy with her question.

"It's not so bad, is it?"

Not so bad. Living with Elliot, would it really be so bad?

"Come on, let's go and get that boy of yours. He's been fussing all evening."

Kathy steps away from the couch, turning, she heads in the direction of the stairs, but stops abruptly when she realises that Olivia is not behind her.

"Olivia?" She calls, the other woman appearing in the doorway before her.

"Sorry, I was just thinking … I want to say thank you, Kathy. I need to say thank you, for everything. I owe you that."

Kathy smiles and cocks her head in the direction of the staircase.

"Don't mention it," She tells Olivia before she leaves the room.

The sun shines through the crack in the window shades and Olivia makes her way across the kitchenette to open the blinds and greet the morning that peeks through her window pane.

Emery is in his swing on the floor where she can see him, she has easy access, but Jeremy is seated on the floor beside him, he tickles his toes and watches the little boys face light up as he rocks to and fro.

"He's really beginning to smile now," Jeremy says around his glass of juice, his smile accentuated by the orange moustache he's acquired, the freshly squeezed pulp sticking to his upper lip. "Unfortunately, he's also starting to look more and more like his father."

Jeremy does not like Elliot, nor does he believe that the father of this bright child is good enough for the likes of Olivia Benson. He's bitter, struck with a streak of jealousy, that burdensome symptom on neurotic insecurity.

Olivia rolls her eyes, she knows that 'Elliot' is a dirty word when Jeremy is in her presence, though it's hard not to mention him, he has always been such a complete component of her wishy washy semblance of existence.

"Jeremy, you're going to give my son a complex."

"He's not good enough for you, Liv. He's not good enough to be Emery's father."

Olivia opens her mouth to point out the obvious when he cuts her off before she can speak.

"But, he is, and I have to respect that."

"Elliot's not well," Olivia says as she washes the dishes, soaping them with the yellow sponge, the hot water falling through her fingers as she rinses the china bowl beneath the warm water. "He has been through a lot and he's having night terrors, had really bad ones last night," she adds as an afterthought.

"Huh," Jeremy snorts. "Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. Maybe that little chat we had scared the shit out of him. I suppose I can only hope."

"You went to see Elliot?" She asks over the sound of running water, wiping her nose with the cuff of her sleeve.

"Went and saw him yesterday. We had a chat, man to man."

Olivia shuts off the tap and wipes her hands on a dish cloth before stepping away from the kitchen sink and into the lounge where Jeremy is sitting.

"Why would you do that?"

"Because I can, and more importantly, because the guy is a jerk. Liv," Jeremy says, turning to look at her, folding his legs and arching his back to look up from his position in the floor. "Do you forget what he did to you? He abandoned you. He abandoned Emery."

Olivia can't believe her ears. How dare he disrespect Elliot like that? What motive could Jeremy possibly have for wanting to speak to Elliot? Clearly his actions speak for themselves.

"How dare you. You have no right. What were you thinking?"

Jeremy places his glass on the floor beside him and pushes himself to a kneeling position so that he doesn't have to crane his neck.

"Liv, he had to be put in his place. He has to know that he's not in the picture anymore. I did this for us."

Jeremy shakes his head; he cannot believe that Olivia is defending that scumbag. How can she possibly justify her argument after everything Elliot has done to her?

"What did you say to him?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me, what did you say to him?" Olivia repeats her previous sentence.

"I told him that you have moved on," Jeremy says, quite obviously offended by the state of Olivia's tone. "I told him that I don't walk away from the people that I love, unlike he did."

"You had no right."

Olivia bends down to retrieve Emery from his swing, placing a muslin cloth over her shoulder, she holds her son up and smiles before she places him over her shoulder and pats his back gently. She begins to pace, the action helping to soothe both herself and her son.

"Liv," Jeremy approaches her, his arm extended as he tries to broach the gap between them. "I'm sorry. I was doing it for us. He needs to know that there are boundaries that he can't cross."

Olivia closes her eyes, her free hand rubs the bridge of her nose and she takes several deep breaths, inhaling deeply to collect her thoughts before she can unleash her tirade.

"Elliot may not be perfect, but he is injured, he can't defend himself at the moment. He has no memory of anything that happened before he left and you know that. How could you throw that back in his face?"

Jeremy grabs her wrist but she pulls her arm away, holding Emery close to her chest, she uses both hands to comfort the child.

"I did it because I had to. Because you're still in love with him and I'll be damned if I let you have him."

Jeremy raises his voice and Emery whimpers against his mother's chest. He can sense the animosity, the way that the discussion quickly escalates into a heated showdown between his mother and this other man.

"Not in front of my son. Don't you dare raise your voice around him."

"Olivia," Jeremy tries to approach her again but she resists his advances, her steps becoming more frequent as she walks Emery across the living room floor.

"Don't Jeremy. I think it would be best if you left now. I have to get my son to sleep."

"Olivia, please. Don't do this. Think about it, I mean, we're good for one another. Are you going to let Elliot Stabler ruin that for us?"

Olivia rubs small circles into her son's tiny back and listens as his breathing slows and his heartbeat levels out into a steady rhythm. His tiny fist clutches her sweater and his chest rises and falls with each breath as he falls into slumber. He's a living miracle. He wouldn't exist if it weren't for Elliot Stabler and though he has done her wrong, Olivia has to be able to find the strength to enact this pardon for the sake of her son.

"Elliot is Emery's father. Nothing can change that, Jeremy. Not even you. Now I asked you once, I don't want to have to call a uniformed officer to come and escort you from my building, but I will if you refuse to leave."

"No, no." Jeremy holds up his hands, a sign of his unwilling defeat. "I get it. I'll leave graciously."

"Thank you," Olivia mumbles against the crown of her son's downy-soft head.

Jeremy stands with his hand on the door knob, he taps the alloy a few times with his thumb before he turns to Olivia with one final question upon his lips.

"Will I call you later?"

Olivia sighs. It's now or never.

"I don't really think that's a good idea. I think it would be better for you to move on. This isn't going to work, Jeremy."

Jeremy doesn't look back the second time. He leaves the apartment unescorted, a heavy heart compacting the feelings of fear that he had heralded from the very beginning. He thinks about visiting Elliot again, about telling him that this is not his victory, that no matter what Olivia says, he will fight, and he is not about to let her go. Not the same way he did Kathy.


	14. Annihilation

**I don't own them.**

**This chapter is dialogue heavy, but I hope that you enjoy it. **

**As always, reviews are nice. **

* * *

Elliot sits on the edge of his bed and grips a free weight in the palm of his injured hand. He forces his knuckles to grasp the dumbbell tightly, his fingers curl slowly around the mass and his arm shakes as he concentrates on trying to block out the pain that infiltrates his joints, his muscles gnarl, crippled in agony as he exaggerates his movements and tentatively raises the bar an inch. His jaw clenched, he shakes his head as he balls his able hand into a fist that descends upon the bedside table in a fit of rage and damning frustration.

"Well, well, well."

A voice from the door distracts his attention and Elliot turns to see a man standing there. He claps his hands as he leans his hip against the door frame, the fleeting rhythm mocking Elliot's movements as he strikes his hands together, jeering at an invalid with little regard for his welfare.

Turning his attention back to the task at hand, Elliot maintains his composure as he waits for Jeremy to launch into the preconceived dialogue. As predictable as ever, Jeremy does not disappoint.

"The great Elliot Stabler," Snarls Jeremy, and there's something elegantly sinister about his tone.

"Not really so great anymore, are you, Private Stabler?"

"You know," Elliot answers, his concentration still focused solely upon the rehabilitation exercise that Randy had left him with earlier in the day, "I seem to recall that I told you something important the last time we spoke, what was it I said to you? Oh, that's right. I told you not to bother coming back. So you're either a real arrogant bastard, or you're just an idiot."

Jeremy chuckles beneath his breath and folds his arms as he steps across the threshold and into Elliot's private suite.

"It stings, doesn't it? Hurts like hell, doesn't it, Elliot? May I call you Elliot? Because I'm sure as hell not going to stand here and address you as Sir, I mean, you're a civilian just like me now."

Elliot decides against playing the game, though he knows how to bluff better than any other Joe at the table, the odds are currently stacked against him and he can't play out the hand that he's been dealt without consequences.

"What do you want?"

"Straight to the point, I like that about you, Stabler, so I'm going to give it to you straight. I warned you, told you to stay away from her, that it was time for you to accept the inevitable, but you just couldn't do that, could you? You couldn't keep away from Olivia."

It's Elliot's turn to laugh, and he chuckles a full belly laugh that makes his belly rumble. Tears sting the corners of his eyes as he fails to contain the merriment and he breaks into a thousand pieces.

"Let me get this straight. You're insinuating that I've done the impossible, that I got my ass up out of this bed?"

Jeremy merely smiles, the left side of his mouth curls into a smirk which shrouds the anger that is simmering just below the surface.

"I know it seems like I'm amused, but I assure you, I find absolutely nothing funny about this situation. It was a simple request, Elliot."

Elliot's fingers relinquish their grip on the weight in his hand and it sinks down into the blanket that covers his bed, swallowed up by the stark white weaving. He ushers his body into a comfortable position, his face contorting as his heavily bandaged leg refuses to cooperate and the ache lingers.

"Look," Elliot says, raising a hand between the two. "Emery is my kid, I love him. But you're the one with Liv, you're the one warming her bed, not me. You win, okay, so just go home."

"I wish I could, I really do, but you're wrong. God, how I wish you weren't, but you're wrong. Fancy that, Elliot Stabler is wrong. Because you're there, you will always be there. It's in the way she looks at that damn baby, the way that I watch them together and I know that you're the one she's thinking of. You, she's actually thinking about a piece of shit like you, the married man with a slew of kids and a chip on his shoulder, who got his dick wet and then bailed like the real cunt that I know you are."

The pain in his body makes Elliot gnash his teeth together; his jaw is tight as he tries in vain to swallow the torment. His head throbs and he rubs his temple with his thumb trying to ease the tension building behind his eyes. He just wants this idiot to leave.

"I barely even know you. Just go home to Olivia, but leave my kids out of this."

Jeremy continues his musing, pushing on down the line, he is relentless in his pursuit.

"You see, you're not the only one with a little secret, Elliot. I have a secret, would you like to hear it? It's about a couple of detectives fucking and a lonely little house wife, desperate for affection from her brute of a husband, so she files for divorce and finds herself a real man. Only that man's not good enough, imagine his rage when she tells him that her useless ex husband came back to her one night; that he got drunk and fell into her bed again. Six weeks later she finds herself pregnant, so she confronts her cop husband who has been screwing his partner for years. The story writes itself, doesn't it, Elliot. It's like poetic justice, or something."

The words come as a surprise to Elliot. To think, that he could have been so naive. Predictably, his marriage had withered, but he scratches his head, such a sabotage leaving him floundering, rendered clueless. It's not what he expected.

"Oh don't look so stunned," Jeremy cuts over Elliot's state of disbelief. "I know you've wondered about little Elliot Junior's paternity, I know a lot of people have."

Elliot shrugs.

"So you fucked my wife, doesn't mean anything."

"Ex wife. Kathy is your ex now, remember? You fucked Olivia under her nose and she left you," Jeremy scoffs. He has been waiting for this moment for a long time, truth from his lips he had hoped would prevail, would have the power to amend.

"… And after everything, she went back to you. I mean, she had everything she needed, and she went back to you, because you had a weak moment. She swore that the kid was yours, swore black and blue, but we know better, don't we?"

Elliot slumps his shoulders as the depths of his lowest days haunt him. The snatch of time when Olivia had fled his side, the times he laughed and cried, sought comfort in the arms of his off-again wife. The night he'd watched his children sleep, kissed his baby girl and stumbled down the stairs to be confronted by Kathy. He'd always maintained that they had been protected.

Elliot eyes the man now, he raises his voice and his eyes are cocked, his brow is furrowed and his tone is every bit the man who left, not merely the shadow of the man who returned in his place.

"That what you want? What you came here for? You want the kid, so take him," Elliot calls his bluff as he struggles to shrug of his bother.

"Oh no," Jeremy shakes his finger in Elliot's direction. "That's not what this is about."

A steady tally of interrogations under his belt, and Elliot's senses are still as sharp as ever. Despite his encumberment, Elliot observes choreographed motions, body language that projects the image of eagerness. Jeremy's jaunty strides, his defiant manner, Elliot knows that his aim is to take him down, to take him out.

"Olivia?" Elliot asks the obvious, pent up rage lurking behind his poker-face façade, clawing for freedom. "Is that what this is about? You want Olivia's kid, cause I can guarantee you that one's not yours. And if you think Liv is gonna give him up; you're all out of luck."

"I warned you, Stabler. I told you to stay out of her life. I lost Kathy to you; I will not lose Olivia to you too."

Elliot painfully shifts his weight on top of the bed, his lungs burn and he sucks in air as his knee joint creaks and bends with resistance. He topples trying to catch his balance, but Jeremy is light on his feet and he reaches for the discarded hand weight. He smirks as he tilts the load in his palm and allows gravity to do the rest.

The first swipe comes without hesitation. A clean blow to the side of the side of the face knocks Elliot down to the floor, his lack of equilibrium like a kaleidoscope of darkness, the same black pattern of lucidity, a perpetual action to reaction.

Shuffling feebly, Elliot endeavors to defend himself, but his body is pinned beneath the weight of his attacker and he is weak, his body betraying his faculties as blow by blow, Jeremy strikes the back of Elliot's head with the weight pressed comfortably into his hand. He screams, watching Elliot go limp, as a crimson tide of plasma spills forth from the wounds that score his ailing body. Jeremy raises his hand to inflict the final knock, but falls short, retreating, as he pants heavily. Dropping the bar, he flees.

* * *

"_We really have to stop meeting like this you know, Dad."_

_Elliot turns to his right where his son leans his bulky frame against the old fence post that runs adjacent to his Great Grandfathers old plantation, just off the fold of Hickory Lane. His shoulders slump against the weathered grain of timber, the breeze wafts gently through his dark fringe as he watches the clouds disintegrate into star dust._

"_Emery?" His father asks. The lines on his forehead bend and bow as he furrows his brow, waiting for his son to answer._

"_Yeah Dad, it's me."_

_Elliot scrubs a hand across his face and sighs, turning his face up to the sky, he too watches the figures that dance across a canvas of blue._

"_What are we doing here?"_

_Emery shrugs, and then extends his arm towards the cotton candy haze above._

"_I think that one looks like a nice set of jugs."_

_His father frowns, concentrating on this boy, his son._

"_Rick taught me that one, you must be so proud of your sons."_

"_I am. Of course I am," Elliot speaks past the lump in his throat. "But that doesn't explain why we're here."_

"_You're in limbo," Emery tells him without diverting his gaze. "You die now and it's all over, Old Man. So you gotta fight, yeah? You have to do this," He says seriously._

"_Tell me what to do," Elliot says desperately, stepping closer to the young man in front of him. "Tell me who I have to kill, what I have to sign, I don't care. Tell me what I need to do."_

_Emery turns to his father, eyes of blue shining as he grips his father's shoulder tightly. _

"_Come on then, it's time for you to go back to where you belong."_

* * *

"Hey Captain," Munch grips a crisp, white piece of A4 paper between his thumb and forefinger and holds it up for his boss to see.

"You got something for me, Detective?"

"Actually, I thought you might find this interesting. I was on my way back from the john …"

"That aint interesting, Old man," Finn interrupts as he closes the manila folder upon his desk and stands to arch his back and stretch his legs.

"Bodily functions are perfectly natural and I happen to think a rather beautiful feature of the human anatomy my friend. As I was saying, I bumped into Talegio on my way back from the john, told me about this all-points bulletin they have out on none other than," He turns to Finn, "Drum roll please … One Mister Jeremy Montgomery."

"Liv's Jeremy?" Finn asks, concerned that his coworker might be in trouble.

"Oh yeah, definitely the same guy," Munch confirms, pointing to the photo sprawled across the top of the page.

"You think Liv knows about this? Maybe we should check it out."

"Munch." He turns at the sounds of his superior's authority. "Give me that."

The two detectives watch as Don scans the page, skimming across the details, the bold, black headers that describe this man as dangerous.

"I'm going to check on Olivia. You two done with paperwork?"

Both men nod.

"Good. Stay here in case she comes in. I'm going over to see what's going on."_And I hope to God that they're both okay._

Grabbing his coat and his hat he leaves the precinct dialing Olivia's number as he descends the stairs.

"_Hi, you've called Detective Olivia Benson, I'm not available to take the call, so please leave a message and I'll get back to you. If it's an emergency, please hang up and call nine-one-one."_

After leaving a brief message, Don finds his foot hits the gas just a fraction more than should ever be legal.

"Olivia," He says as he knocks on the door with his fist. "It's Don Cragen."

There is no reply, and then he hears a cry and a scream, he can hear Olivia curse and a thump as something nondescript falls to the floor.

"Captain, what are you doing here?"

Olivia opens the door and ushers him inside where the remnants of what seems to resemble a Cherry-Cola ice cream spider now stain the pale carpet a rather velvet looking, bittersweet shade.

"Oh," Olivia stares down at the carpet as she places her toe upon the rocker where Emery is now fitfully napping.

"Everything alright?"

"Yes, fine. I must have dozed off." She nods to the floor. "Treated myself to something nice," She explains. "I knocked it down when I woke with a fright."

"I'm sorry. I know how much sleep means to you with this little boy around, but I tried calling you and there was no answer. I thought I'd come over and check on you."

"I'm fine, we're fine. I had my phone on silent. We needed a little Mommy-baby time to ourselves."

"Olivia." He speaks, and she knows that tone, she has worked with it for years, long enough to know when something is wrong, the inflection, straight off the bat.

"Captain?"

"Olivia, I think you should sit down …"

"No," Olivia cuts him off, holding up her hand. "No, I think I'll stand. Because I'm not going to sit and we're not going to sip tea and pretend that everything is okay when clearly, it's not."

"It's Elliot."

_Elliot. _His name strikes fear into her heart, not because of the pain associated with her former partner, not because of the wait that it ended, not even because he'd abandoned her for an outpost in a foreign country, a hideaway from his infidelity. Olivia swallows thickly, her heart hammers beneath her ribcage and she struggles to force the breath from her lungs.

"What happened? The kids? Are they okay?"

"Olivia," He sighs. This was always the worst part, addressing families and informing loved ones. A dollar a day, it never got any easier.

"Just tell me."

"Elliot was found in his room this evening, he was beaten severely, blunt force trauma to the head."

"What?" She asks, almost astounded, as if this is some kind of dream, a sick and twisted joke. She checks the wall calendar by the fridge. Today is not April first.

"You're kidding, right? Who would do something like that? Elliot is in a private rehab facility."

"The staff checked the security feed that live streamed straight from Elliot's room. They got a good look at his face, Olivia."

Don holds up a black and white photo, a seven by five shot of the very man in question, the only person stupid enough to allow his crime to be witnessed by so many.

Olivia gasps. And it's then that she realizes that the pain that she feels has nothing to do with her bitter resentment. It's love. There is a hole in her heart, six foot tall and built to last. He is inside her, he has taken his hostage and the risk associated with the fallout is enough to force her to call on her bets. She requires courage if she is to achieve happiness. Nothing will simply, happen by accident.

Straightening herself, Olivia bends to retrieve the fallen bottle and returns from the kitchenette with a wad of paper towels in her hand.

"You can work on the carpet for me. There's a bottle in the fridge for Emery, I'm going to get changed, and then you can drive me wherever we need to go. You got room for a capsule?"

"Yeah Liv," He nods. "I got room for the both of you."


End file.
